PN 6084 

W6 P6 
Copy 1 












LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

Jill 

V 021 100 731 A « 



PN 6084 
.W6 P6 
Copy 1 




LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



about 
Women : 



WHAT MEN 
HAVE SAID 



" For thy most sweet understanding 
a Woman." 

Shakespeare 



Cbosen ana Brrangeo 

TCose porter 




NEW YORK & LONDON *& G. P. 
PUTNAM'S SONS <&■ *& <$$• 






v^ 






Til 6<>*¥- 



Copyright, 1894 

BY 

G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 



Electrotyped, Printed and Bound by 

Zbe Iknicfcerbocfecr press, IRew l^ork 
G. P. Putnam's Sons 



CONTENTS 



JANUARY - - WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE - - 1 
FEBRUARY- - JOHN MILTON ----- 15 

MARCH LORD BYRON - 27 

APRIL SIR WALTER SCOTT - - - 45 

MAY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH - 63 

JUNE THOMAS CARLYLE - - - 81 

JULY COVENTRY PATMORE - - 95 

AUGUST VICTOR HUGO 109 

SEPTEMBER - ROBERT BROWNING - - - 125 
OCTOBER WM. MAKEPEACE THACKERAY 143 
NOVEMBER - ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON 165 
DECEMBER - JOHN RUSKIN - 187 



3anuar$ 



William Sbafeespeare 



Jfair laMes, $ou crop manna in the was of starveo 
people. 

flDercbant of IDenice, B. 5, £. I. 



Z btrfc £>a\? 



3anuar^ 



jfirst Bag* 

Where is any author in the world 
Teaches such beauty as a woman's eye ? 

Love's Labour *s Lost, A. ^, S. j. 



Second Bag* 

The idea of her life shall sweetly creep 
Into his study of imagination ; 
And every lovely organ of her life 
Shall come apparel' d in more precious habit, 
More moving-delicate, and full of life, 
Into the eye and prospect of his soul. 

Much Ado About Nothing, A. 4, S. i. 



Zbixb Ba£, 

Kindness in women, not their beauteous 
looks, 
Shall win my love. 

Taming of the Shrew, A. 4, S. 2, 
3 



Shakespeare 



3anuar\> 



JFourtb S>a£. 

Win her with gifts, if she respect not 
words ; 
Dumb jewels often, in their silent kind, 
More than quick words, do move a woman's 
mind. 

Two Gentlemen of Verona, A. j, 5. /. 



jpiftb Bag. 

You, that have so fair parts of woman on 

you j 

Have too a woman's heart : which ever yet 
Affected eminence, wealth, sovereignty. 

Henry VIII. , A. 2, S. 3. 



Siitb Ba# 

'Tis beauty that doth oft make women 
proud ; 
'T is virtue that doth make them most admired. 
Henry VI, Pi. j, A. z, S. 4. 

4 



Zcntb £)a£ 

3anuan> 

Seventh 5>aE. 

From woman's eyes this doctrine I derive ; 
They sparkle still the right Promethean fire ; 
They are the books, the arts, the academes, 
That show, contain, and nourish all the world. 
Love's Labour f s Lost, A. 4, S. 3. 

JBiQbtb 5>a£. 

Her voice was ever soft. 
Gentle, and low : an excellent thing in woman. 
King Lear, A. 5, S. 3. 

IRtntb Bag, 

Have you not heard it said full oft, 
A woman's nay doth stand for naught ? 

The Passionate Pilgrim, Line 14.. 

Gentb 5>a£. 

Thou shalt find she will outstrip all praise, 
And make it halt behind her. 

The Tempest, A. 4, S. 1. 

5 



febafcespeare 



3anuar\> 



^Eleventh Bag. 

Good name in man and woman, 
Is the immediate jewel of their souls. 

Othello, A. j, S. 3. 



XLvoclftb 2>a£, 

Women are soft, pitiful, and flexible. 

Henry VI, PL 3, A. 1, S. 4. 



ftbirteentb S>a£. 

Such duty as the subject owes the prince, 
Even such a woman oweth to her husband ; 
And, when she 's froward, peevish, sullen, sour, 
And not obedient to his honest will, 
What is she, but a contending rebel, 
And graceless traitor to her loving lord ? 

Taming of the Shrew, A. 5, S. 2, 
6 



Sirteentb 2>ax> 



January 



ffourtecntb Bag. 

Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale 
Her infinite variety : other women cloy 
The appetites they feed : but she makes hungry 
Where most she satisfies. 

Antony and Cleopatra, A. 2, S. 2. 

3f ifteentb Bag, 

She 's beautiful, and therefore to be wooed ; 
She is a woman, therefore to be won. 

Henry VL y PL /, A. 5, S. 3. 

Si£teentb Bag, 

Say, that she rail ; why, then I '11 tell her 
plain 
She sings as sweetly as a nightingale ; 
Say, that she frown ; I '11 say, she looks as clear 
As morning roses newly wash'd with dew ; 
Say, she be mute, and will not speak a word ; 
Then I '11 commend her volubility, 
And say she uttereth piercing eloquence. 

Taming of the Shrew, A. 2, S. /, 
7 



Sbafeespeare 



3anuar$ 



Seventeentb 2>a£» 

Flatter, and praise, commend, extol their 
graces ; 
. . . Say they have angels' faces. 
That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man, 
If with his tongue he cannot win a woman. 

Two Gentlemen of Verona, A . j, S. i. 



Bigbteentb 2>a£, 

Bethink thee on her virtues that surmount, 
And natural graces that extinguish art ; 

And, which is more, she is not so divine, 
So full-replete with choice of all delights, 
But, with as humble lowliness of mind, 
She is content to be at your command. 

Henry VI, PL f, A. 5, S. j. 
8 



cwcr.t\>first 2)a$ 



January 



fltneteentb 5>av>. 

Let still the woman take 
An elder than herself; so wears she to him, 
So sways she level in her husband's heart. 
For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, 
Our fancies are more giddy and unflrm, 
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn, 
Than women's are. 

Twelfth Night, A.2,S. 4. 

Cwentietb Dag, 

'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and 
white 
Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on. 
Twelfth Night, A, /, 5. 5. 

Cwentg^ffrst Bag, 

Fresh tears 
Stood on her cheeks, as doth the honey-dew 
Upon a gather' d lily almost wither' d. 

Titus AndronicuSy A. 3, S. 1. 
9 



Sbakespeare 



3anuan> 



Zwentyzeeconb 2>a£. 

Patience and sorrow strove 
Who should express her goodliest. You have 

seen 
Sunshine and rain at once ; her smiles and tears 
Were like a better day : those happy smilets, 
That play'd on her ripe lip, seem'd not to know 
W 7 hat guests were in her eyes ; which parted 

thence, 
As pearls from diamonds dropp'd. 

King Lear y A. 4, S. 3. 



Cwent^tbtrfc S>a£, 

She is mine own ; 
And I as rich in having such a jewel 
As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl, 
The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold. 

Two Gentlemen of Verona, A. 2, S. 4. 
10 



Uwent^ssirtb 2>a$ 



3anuar$ 



Cvventg^fourtb S>ag. 

A woman impudent and mannish grown 
Is not more loath'd than an effeminate man 
In time of action. 

Troilus and Cressida, A. j, S. j. 

Zwcnt^tiftb Dag. 

A woman's face, with Nature's own 
hand painted, 
Hast thou . . . 

A woman's gentle heart, but not acquainted 
With shifting change, as is false woman's 

fashion : 
An eye more bright than theirs, less false in 

rolling 
Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth. 

Sonnet XX. 

£went£*st£tb Dag, 

No other but a woman's reason ; 
I think him so, because I think him so. 

Two Gentlemen of Verona, A. i, S. 2. 
n 



Sbafeespeare 



3anuar$ 



G\venty*seventb 2)a^» 

The hand that hath made you fair hath made 
you good : the goodness that is cheap in beauty 
makes beauty brief in goodness ; but grace, 
being the soul of your complexion, should keep 
the body of it ever fair. 

Measure for Measure > A. j, S. i. 

If ladies be but young and fair, 
They have the gift to know it. 

As You Like It, A. 2, S. 7. 

£wentE=mintb Ba^ 

If she do frown, 'tis not in hate of you, 
But rather to beget more love in you : 
If she do chide, 't is not to have you gone ; 

Take no repulse, whatever she doth say ; 
For "Get you gone" she doth not mean 
"Away/" 

Two Gentlemen of Verona, A. 3, S. f. 
12 



Ufoirtssfivst 5>as 



3anuarp 



Cbfrtietb 5>ag. 

She never told her love, 
But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, 
Feed on her damask cheek : she pin'd in thought, 
And, with a green and yellow melancholy, 
She sat, like Patience on a monument, 
Smiling at grief. 

Twelfth Night, A. 2, S. 4.. 

Gbirt£*first Da^. 

She shall be 
A pattern to all . . . living with her. . . . 
Holy and heavenly thoughts shall still counsel 

her ; 
She shall be lov'd, and fear'd. Her own shall 

bless her. . . . 
. . . Those about her 
From her shall read the perfect ways of 

honour. . . . 
. . . Yet a virgin, 

A most unspotted lily shall she pass 
To the ground, and all shall mourn her. 

Henry VIII., A. 5, S. 4. 
13 



3februan> 



Jobn flDilton 



Creator bounteous and benign, 
Oiver of all things fair ! tut fairest tbis 
Of all Zh\: gifts ! . . . THtoman is bcr name. 

paraotse %ost, JiSoofc S, 



15 



flMIton 

februarp 

first Ba£. 

Grace was in all her steps, Heaven in her eye, 
In every gesture dignity and love. 

Paradise Lost, Book 8. 



Second Bag. 

When I approach 
Her loveliness, so absolute she seems 
And in herself complete, so well to know 
Her own, that what she wills to do or say 
Seems wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best. 

Paradise Lost, Book 8. 



GbirD Bag. 

Nothing lovelier can be found 
In woman than to study household good, 
And good works in her husband to promote. 

Paradise Lost, Book g. 
16 



Sirtb E>a^ 



! 



jfebruan? 



jfourtb 5>a£. 

For coutemplation he and valour form'd ; 
For softness she and sweet attractive grace ; 
He for God only, she for God in him. 

Paradise Lost, Book , 



jftttb H>a£, 

Among daughters of men . . . 
Man}' are in each region passing fair 
As the noon sky ; more like to goddesses 
Than mortal creatures ; graceful and discreet ; 
. . . Persuasive . . . 

Such objects have the power to soften and tame 
Severest temper. 

Paradise Regained, Book 2. 



5t£tb 5>a£, 

Ladies, whose bright eyes 

Rain influence. 

D Allegro. 

17 



/IDtlton 



tfebruarp 



Seventb Bag, 

Love, sweetness, goodness, in her person shined. 

Sonnet. 

JBxgbth 2>a£, 

O fairest of Creation, last and best 
Of all God's works, creature in whom excel? d 
Whatever can to sight or thought be form'd, 
Holy, divine, good, amiable, or sweet ! 

Paradise Lost, Book o. 

mtntb Bag, 

Curiosity, inquisitive, importune 
Of secrets, then with like infirmity 
To publish them, both common female faults. 

Samson Agonistes. 

Gentb 2>a£* 

In argument with men, a woman ever 
Goes by the worse, whatever be her cause. 

Samson Agonistes, 



"Cwclftb £>as 



tfebruar^ 



jEleventb 5)a£. 

Thus it will befall 
Him who to worth in woman overturning 
Lets her will rule ; restraint she will not brook, 
And left to herself, if evil thence ensue, 

She first his weak indulgence will accuse. 

Paradise Lost, Book g. 

Cwclftb Ba£, 

Daughter of God . . . 
I, from the influence of thy looks, receive 
Access in every virtue : and in thy sight 
More wise, more watchful, stronger, if need were 
Of outward strength ; while shame, thou look- 
ing on, 
Shame to be overcome or overreach'd, 
Would utmost vigour raise, and raised unite. 
Why shouldst not thou like sense within thee 

feel 
When I am present, and thy trial choose 
With me, best witness of thy virtue tried ? 

Paradise Lost, Book g. 
19 



flIMlton 



3februar£ 



Gbtrteentb S>a^ 

By his countenance he seem'd 
Entering on studious thoughts abstruse ; which 

Kve 
Perceiving, where she sat retired in sight, 
With lowliness majestic from her seat, 
And grace that won who saw to wish her stay, 
Rose, and went forth among her fruits and 

flowers, 
To visit how they prosper'd, bud and bloom, 
Her nursery ; they at her coming sprung, 
And, touch'd by her fair tendance, gladlier grew. 
Paradise Lost. Book 8. 



jfoutteentb 2>a£* 

So dear to Heaven is saintly chastity, 
That, when a soul is found sincerely so 
A thousand liveried angels lackey her, 
Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt ; 
And in clear dream and solemn vision 
20 



Sirtccntb tag 



jfcbruan? 



fOUrteClltb E>aY> {continued). 

Tell her of things that uo gross ear can hear ; 
Till oft converse with heavenly habitants 
Begin to east a beam on the outward shape. 

Comus. 

fifteenth Bav\ 

A smile that glow'd 
Celestial rosy red, love's proper hue, 

Paradise Lost, Book 8, 

Sixteenth E>a\\ 

She has a hidden strength . . . 
. . . The strength of Heaven, 
It may be termed her own. 
'T is chastity . . . chastity. . . . 
She that has that, is clad in complete steel ; 
And, like a quiver' d Nymph with arrows keen, 
May trace huge forests, and unharbourd heaths, 
. . . and sandy perilous wilds , . . 
She may pass on with unblench'd majesty 
Be it not done in pride, or in presumption. 

Comus, 

21 



/UMlton 



jfebruarp 



Seventeenth S>a^ 

O Woman, in thy native innocence, rely 
On what thou hast of virtue : summon all, 
For God toward thee hath done His part, do 

thine. 

Paradise Lost, Book 8. 



Eighteenth Ba£. 

What higher in her society thou find'st 
Attractive, human, rational, love still ; 
In loving thou dost well, in passion not 
Wherein true love consists not. 

Paradise Lost, Book 8. 



IRmeteentb Bag, 

The wife, where danger or dishonour lurks. 
Safest and seemliest by her husband stays, 
Who guards her, or with her the worst endures. 
Paradise Lost, Book p. 

22 



tTwentssseconb 2>a£ 



februarp 



twentieth S>a£, 

Greatness of mind and nobleness their seat 
Build in her loveliest, and create an awe 
About her, as a guard angelic placed. 

Paradise Lost, Book 8. 

Gwent^ffrst Bag* 

Those graceful acts, 
Those thousand decencies that daily flow 
From all her words and actions mix'd with love 
And sweet compliance, which declare unfeign'd 
Union of mind, or in us both one soul ; 
Harmony to behold in wedded pair 
More grateful than harmonious sound to the ear. 
Paradise Lost, Book 8. 

Come, pensive Nun, devout and pure, 
Sober, steadfast, and demure. 

With even step and musing gait ; 
And looks commercing with the skies, 
Thy wrapt soul sitting in thine eyes. 

// Penseroso, 



Hilton 



februan? 



Gwentg^tbird Bag* 

Innocence and virgin modesty 
Her virtue, and the conscience of her worth, 
That would be woo'd, and not unsought be won, 
Not obvious, not obtrusive, but retired 
The more desirable. 

Paradise Lost, Book 8. 

Gwent£=fourtb 2>a£* 

Lady, thy care is fix'd, and zealously attends 
To fill thy odorous lamp with deeds of light, 

And hope that reaps not shame. 

Sonnet. 

twenty =ffftb 2>a£, 

A creature . . . 
... So lovely fair, 
That what seem'd fair in all the world seem'd 

now 
Mean, or in hersumm'd up, in her contain'd. 
Paradise Lost, Book 8. 
24 



Jfebruan? 

Cvvent^sirtb 5>a£. 

All tilings from her air inspired 

The spirit of love and amorous delight. 

Paradise Lost, Book 8. 

Gwent^seventb Da^ 

It is for homely features to keep home — 
They had their name thence : coarse complex- 
ions 
And cheeks of sorry grain will serve to ply 
The sampler and to tease the housewife's wool. 

Comus. 

Zwentv*eiQbtb Bap, 

With dispatchful looks in haste 
She turns, on hospitable thoughts intent. 
What choice to choose for delicacy best, 
What order, so contrived, as not to mix 
Tastes, not well join'd, inelegant, but bring 
Taste after taste upheld with kindliest change. 
Paradise Lost, Book 5. 
25 



/ftilton 



tfebruarp 



Gwent^nintb Bag. 

I do not think my sister . . . 
... So unprincipled in Virtue's book 
And the sweet peace that goodness bosoms ever, 
As that the single want of light and noise 
Could stir the constant mood of her calm 

thoughts, 
And put them into misbecoming plight. 
Virtue could see to do what Virtue would 
By her own radiant light, though sun and moon 
Were in the flat sea sunk. And Wisdom's self 
Oft seeks to sweet retired solitude : 
Where, with her best nurse, Contemplation, 
She plumes her feathers, and lets grow her 

wings, 
That in the various bustle of resort 
Were all too ruffled, and sometimes impair'd. 

Comus, 



26 



fIDarcb 



Xorfc 36\?ron 



XCloman— 

'Cbe star tbat guides tbe wanderer, tbou ! 
Ub: ?evc of peace ant) promise to mine ark I 

3Be tbou tbe rainbow to tbe storms of life ! 
Zhc evening beam tbat smiles tbe clouos awav, 
Bno tints to=morrow witb propbetic ra?. 

Ufce ftrioe of Bbsoos, Ganto 2. 



27 



36vron 

fIDarcb 

ffirst 2>a& 

Around her shone 
The nameless charms unmark'd by her alone : 
The light of love, the purity of grace, 
The mind, the music breathing from her face, 
The heart whose softness harmonized the 

whole — 
And, oh ! that eye was in itself a soul ! 

The Bride of A 5yd os, Canto i. 

Second Bag, 

Maidens, like moths, are ever caught by glare, 
And Mammon wins his way where seraphs 
might despair. 

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto i. 

Cbtrfc Bag. 

She was a form of life and light, 
That, seen, became a part of sight ; 
And rose where'er I turned mine eye, 
The morning-star of memory ! 

The Giaour. 

23 



fIDarcb 

jFourtb 2>a£. 

You know, or ought to know, enough of 
women, 
Since you have studied them so steadily, 
That what they ask in aught that touches on 
The heart, is dearer to their feelings or 
Their fancy than the whole external world. 

Sardanapalus, A. 4.. 



aftttb S>a£. 

Oh ! too convincing — dangerously dear — 
In woman's eye the unanswerable tear ! 
That weapon of her weakness she can wield, 
To save, 'subdue — at once her spear and shield. 

Corsair, Canto 2. 



Stjtb Bag, 

Who hath not proved how feebly words essay 
To fix one spark of beauty's heavenly ray ? 
Who doth not feel, until his failing sight 
29 



3Bvron 

fIDarcb 

5t£tb H>a£ (continued). 

Faints into dimness with its own delight, 
His changing cheek, his sinking heart confess 
The might — the majesty of loveliness ? 

Bride ofAbydos, Canto i. 

Seventb 2>a£. 

So bright the tear in beauty's eye, 
Love half regrets to kiss it dry ; 
So sweet the blush of bashfulness, 
Kven pity scarce can wish it less ! 

The Bride of Abydos, Canto i, 

Bigbtb Da£. 

Her glossy hair was cluster' d o'er a brow 
Bright with intelligence, and fair and smooth ; 
Her eyebrow's shape was like the aerial bow, 
Her cheek all purple with the beam of youth, 
Mounting, at times to a transparent glow, 
As if her veins ran lightning. 

Don fuan y Canto /. 
30 



Zcntb H>a$ 



Hintb 5>a£. 



fIDarcb 



Man's love is of man's life a thing apart, 
'T is woman's whole existence. 

Don Juan, Canto i. 



Centb 5>a£. 

Her very smile was haughty, though so sweet ; 

Her very nod was not an inclination ; 
There was a self-will even in her small feet, 

As though they were quite conscious of her 

station ; — 

But nature teaches more than power can spoil, 
And when a strong although a strange sen- 
sation 
Moves — female hearts are such a genial soil 

For kinder feelings, whatsoe'er their nation, 
They naturally pour the " wine and oil," 
Samaritans in every situation. 

Don Juan, Canto 5. 
3i 



as^ron 



flDardb 

JEleventb 2>a^ 

The earth has nothing like a she epistle, 
And hardly heaven — because it never ends. 

I love the mystery of a female missal, 
Which, like a creed ne'er says all it intends. 
Don Juan, Canto 13. 



Gwelftb Dag, 

Her chief resource was in her own high spirit, 
Which judged mankind at their due estima- 
tion ; 
And for coquetry, she disdain' d to wear it : 
Secure of admiration, its impression 
Was faint, as of an e very-day possession. 

Don Juan, Canto 13. 
32 



jFouitccntb E>av> 

HDarcb 

Cbtrteentb 2>a£. 

An eye 's an eye, and whether black or blue, 

Is no great matter, so 't is in request. 
'T is nonsense to dispute about a hue, 
The kindest may be taken as a test. 
The fair sex should be always fair ; and no man 
Till thirty, should perceive there 's a plain 
woman. 

Beppo. 



jfourteentb 5>a£, 

She was not violently lively, but 

Stole on your spirit like a May-day breaking ; 
Her eyes were not too sparkling, yet, half shut, 
They put beholders in a tender taking. 

Don Juan ) Canto 6. 
33 



1B\:von 

fIDarcb 

fftfteentb Dag. 

The very first 
Of human life must spring from woman's breast, 
Your first small words are taught you from her 

lips, 
Your first tears quench 'd by her, and your last 

sighs 
Too often breathed out in a woman's hearing, 
When men have shrunk from the ignoble care 
Of watching the last hour of him who led them. 

Sardanapalus, A. i. 



Sfjteentb £a£. 

Soft, as the memory of buried love ; 

Pure, as the prayer which childhood wafts above 

Was she. 

Bride of A by do s, Canto i. 

34 



^Eighteenth £>as 

flftarcb 

Seventeenth 2>a£, 

She was a soft landscape of mild earth, 

Where all was harmony, and calm and quiet, 

Luxuriant, budding ; cheerful without mirth, 
Which, if not happiness, is more nigh it 

Than are your mighty passions and so forth, 
Which some call "the sublime": I wish 
they 'd try it ; 

I 've seen your stormy seas and stormy women, 

And pity lovers rather more than seamen. 

Don Juan , Canto 6. 



Eigbteentb Bag, 

The tender blue of that large loving eye. 
The Corsair, Canto i. 

35 



fH>arcb 

IRineteentb Da£. 

Now Laura moves along the joyous crowd, 

Smiles in her eyes, and simpers on her lips ; 
To some she whispers, others speaks aloud ; 

To some she curtsies, and to some she dips ; 
Complains of warmth, and this complaint 
avow'd, 
Her lover brings the lemonade, — she sips : 
She then surveys, condemns, but pities still 
Her dearest friends for being drest so ill. 
One had false curls, another too much paint, 
A third — where did she buy that frightful 
turban ? 
A fourth 's so pale she fears she 's going to faint, 
A fifth's look 's vulgar, dowdyish, and sub- 
urban, 
A sixth's white silk has got a yellow tint, 
A seventh's thin muslin surely will be her 
bane, 
And lo ! an eighth appears, —I '11 see no more ! 
For fear, like Banquo's kings, they reach a score. 

Beppo. 

36 






fIDarcb 

Cwenttetb 5>a£, 

She was blooming still, had made the best 
Of time, aud time return'd the compliment, 

And treated her genteelly, so that, drest, 
She look'd extremely well where'er she went ; 

A pretty woman is a welcome guest, 
And her brow a frown had rarely bent ; 

Indeed she shone all smiles, and seem'd to 
flatter 

Mankind with her black eyes for looking at her. 

Beppo. 



Cvvent£=first 5>a^ 

I think, with all due deference 

To the fair single part of the creation, 
That married ladies should preserve the prefer- 
ence 
In tete-a-tete or general conversation — 
Because they know the world, and are at ease, 
And being natural, naturally please. 

Beppo. 
37 



fIDarcb 

She walks in beauty, like the night 
Of cloudless climes and starry skies ; 

And all that 's best of dark and bright 
Meet in her aspect and her eyes ; 

Thus mellow 'd to that tender light 
Which heaven to gaudy day denies. 

One shade the more, one ray the less, 
Had half impair'd the nameless grace 

Which waves in every raven tress, 
Or softly lightens o'er her face ; 

Where thoughts serenely sweet express 
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place. 

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, 

So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, 
The smiles that win, the tints that glow, 

But tell of days in goodness spent, 
A mind at peace with all below, 

A heart whose love is innocent ! 

Hebrew Melodies. 



fIDarcb 

GwentB^tbirD Da^ 

I saw thee weep — the big bright tear 

Came o'er that eye of blue : 
And then methought it did appear 

A violet dropping dew ; 
I saw thee smile — the sapphire's blaze 

Beside thee ceased to shine, 
It could not match the living rays 

That fill'd that glance of thine. 

As clouds from yonder sun receive 

A deep and mellow die, 
Which scarce the shade of coming eve 

Can banish from the sky, 
Those smiles unto the moodiest mind 

Their own pure joy impart ; 
Their suushine leaves a glow behind 

That lightens o'er the heart. 

Hebrew Melodies. 



3B$ron 

fIDarcb 

Gwent^fourtb 2)a£, 

I have observed your sex, once roused to wrath, 

Are timidly vindictive to a pitch 

Of perseverance, which I would not copy. 

Sardanapalus, A. 2. 



GwentE*fiftb Das* 

She was pensive more than melancholy, 
And serious more than pensive, and serene, 
It may be, more than either . . . 
The strangest thing was, beauteous, she was 

wholly 
Unconscious, albeit turn'd of quick seventeen, 
That she was fair, or dark, or short, or tall ; 
She never thought about herself at all. 

Don Juan , Canto 6. 
40 



TTweittgsgeventb £)a^ 

fIDarcb 

Z\ventv*6\ith Dag. 

A learned lady, famed 

For every branch of every science known — 
In every Christian language ever named, 

With virtues equall'd by her wit alone, 
She made the cleverest people quite ashamed, 

And even the good with inward envy groan, 
Finding themselves so very much exceeded 
In their own way by all the things that she did. 

Don Juan, Canto i. 



£vventE=seventb Dag. 

'Tis pity learned virgins ever wed 
With persons of no sort of education, 

Or gentlemen who, though well-born and bred, 
Grow tired of scientific conversation : 

Oh ! ye lords of ladies intellectual, 
Inform us truly, have they not hen-peck' d you 
all? 

Don J u a yi, Canto /. 

4i 



figron 

flDarcb 

Cwentg*eigbtb S>a£. 

What a strange thing is man ! and what a 

stranger 
Is woman ? what a whirlwind is her head, 
And what a whirlpool full of depth and danger 
Is all the rest about her ! whether wed, 
Or widow, maid, or mother, she can change her 
Mind like the wind ; whatever she has said 
Or done, is light to what she '11 say or do ; — 
The oldest thing on record, and yet new ! 

Don Juan, Canto g. 



C\ventg*nintb Dap, 

Round her she made an atmosphere of life, 
The very air seem'd lighter from her eyes, 

They were so soft and beautiful, and rife 
With all we can imagine of the skies ; — 

Her overpowering presence made you feel, 
It would not be idolatry to kneel. 

Don Juan, Canto j. 



Ubut^first £)as 

flDarcb 

Gbirtietb 5>a£, 

Through her eye the Immortal shone ; 

Her eyes' dark charm 't were vain to tell, 
But gaze on that of the gazelle, 
It will assist thy fancy well ; 
As large, as languishingly dark, 
But soul beamed forth in every spark 
That darted from beneath the lid, 
Bright as the jewel of Giamschid, 
Yea, soul ! 



The Giaour. 



So — this feminine farewell 
Ends as such partings end, in no departure. 

Sardanapalus, A. 4. 



43 



Hprtl 



Sir matter Scott 



0, XUoman ! in our bours of ease, 
Uncertain, cov;, ano baro to please, 
Bno variable as tbe sbaoe 
S$ tbe ligbt quivering aspen maoe,— 
XUben pain and anguish wring tbe brow, 
B ministering angel tbou ! 

flDarmion, Canto 6. 



45 



Scott 



aptii 



first S>a£, 

Even the most simple and unsuspicious of the 
female sex have (God bless them !) an instinctive 
sharpness of perception in love matters, which 
sometimes goes the length of observing partiali- 
ties that never existed, but rarely misses to 
detect such as pass actually under their obser- 
vation. 

Waver ley. 



Second Ba£* 

Her accents stole 
On the dark visions of their soul, 
And bade their mournful musings fly, 
Ivike mist before the zephyr's sigh. 

Rokeby> Canto 4. 



ftbfrt 2>at> 



Hpril 



CbirD 5>a£. 

She sung with great taste and feeling, and 
with a respect to the sense of what she uttered, 
that might be proposed in example to ladies 
of much superior musical talent. Her natural 
good sense taught her, that if, as we are assured, 
"music must be married to immortal verse," 
they are very often divorced by the performer 
in a most shameful manner. It was perhaps 
owing to this sensibility to poetry, and com- 
bining its expression with those of the musical 
notes, that her singing gave more pleasure to 
all the unlearned in music, and even to many 
of the learned, than could have been communi- 
cated by a much finer voice and more brilliant 
execution, unguided by the same delicacy of 
feeling 

Waver ley. 



47 



Scott 



april 



ffourtb 2)a^ 

Ivike every beautiful woman, she was con- 
scious of her own power, and pleased with its 
effects. . . . But as she possessed excellent 
sense, she gave accidental circumstances full 
weight in appreciating the feeling she aroused. 

Waver ley. 



ffiftb H>a£, 

There was a soft and pensive grace, 
A cast of thought upon her face, 
That suited well the forehead high, 
The eye-lash dark, and downcast eye ; 
The mild expression spoke a mind 
In duty firm, composed, resign' d. 

Rokeby^ Canto 4. 
48 



Seventb 2Dav> 



Hprii 



5i£tb 2>a£* 

The rose, with faint and feeble streak 
So slightly tinged the maiden's cheek, 
That you had said her hue was pale ; 
But if she faced the summer-gale, 
Or spoke, or sung, or quicker moved, 
Or heard the praise of those she loved, 
Or when of interest was express 'd 
Aught that waked feeling in her breast, 
That mantling blood in ready play 
Rivall' d the blush of rising day. 

Rokeby, Canto 4. 



Seventh Da$. 

What woman knows not her own road to 
victory? 

The Talisman. 
49 



Scott 



Spril 



JEightb Dag, 

She had been beautiful, and was stately and 
majestic in her appearance. Endowed by na- 
ture with strong powers and violent passions, 
experience had taught her to employ the one, 
and to conceal, if not to moderate, the other. 
She was a severe and strict observer of the 
external forms, at least, of devotion ; her hospi- 
tality was splendid, even to ostentation ; her 
address and manners were grave, dignified, and 
severely regulated by the rules of etiquette. . . . 
And yet, with all these qualities to excite re- 
spect, she was seldom mentioned in the terms 
of love or affection. Interest, — the interest of 
her family, if not her own — seemed too ob- 
viously the motive of her actions : and when 
this is the case, the sharp-judging and malig- 
nant public are not easily imposed upon by 
outward show. 

The Bride of Lammermoor. 



50 



Eleventh S>aj> 



Hpril 



ffltntb £>av> 

Reasoning — like a woman, to whom external 
appearance is scarcely in any circumstance a 
matter of unimportance, and like a beauty who 
has confidence in her own charms. 

Kenilworth. 

Centb 2>a£« 

Her affection and sympathy dictated at once 
the kindest course. Without attempting to 
control the torrent of grief in its full current, 
she gently sat her down beside the mourner. 
. . . She waited a more composed moment to 
offer her little stock of consolation in deep 
silence and stillness. 

The Betrothed, 

Eleventb 2>a& 

Her kindness and her worth to spy 
You need but gaze on Ellen's eye ; 
Not Katrine in her mirror blue, 
Gives back the shaggy banks more true 
51 



Scott 



Bpril 



JElCVCWth 2>a£ [continued). 

Than every free-born glance confess 'd 
The guileless movements of her breast ; 
Whether joy danced in her dark eye, 
Or woe or pity claim' d a sigh, 
Or filial love was glowing there, 
Or meek devotion pour'd a prayer, 
Or hate of injury call'd forth 
The indignant spirit of the North. 
One only passion unreveal'd, 
With maiden pride, the maid conceal'd, 
Yet no less purely felt the flame — 
O need I tell that passion's name ? 

The Lady of the Lake ) Canto i. 

Cwelftb S>a£, 

She is fairer in feature than becometh a man 
of my order to speak of; and she has withal a 
breathing of her father's lofty spirit. The look 
and the word of such a lady will give a man 
double strength in the hour of need. 

The Betrothed. 
52 



ffourteentb £>av 



Hpril 



Cbtrteentb 5>a£. 

Her smile, her speech, with winning sway, 
Wiled the old harper's mood away. 
With such a look as hermits throw 
When angels stoop to soothe their woe, 
He gazed, till fond regret and pride 
Thrill' d to a tear. 

The Lady of the Lake, Canto 2. 



fourteenth Bav. 

All her soul is in her eye, 

Yet doubts she still to tender free 

The wonted words of courtesy. 

Go to her now — be bold of cheer, 

While her soul floats 'twixt hope and fear : 

It is the very change of tide, 

When best the female heart is tried — 

Pride, prejudice . . . 

Are in the current swept to sea. 

Rokeby, Canto 2. 
53 



Scott 



april 



jFifteentb Ba£. 

She was highly acconiplished ; yet she had 
not learned to substitute the gloss of politeness 
for the reality of feeling. 

Waverley. 



Sixteenth 2>a£, 

A deep-thinking and impassioned woman, 

ready to make exertions alike, and sacrifices, 

with all that vain devotion to a favorite object 

of affection, which is often so basely rewarded. 

The Fortunes of Nigel. 



Seventeenth 2Da£. 

The spotless virgin fears not the raging lion. 

The Talisman. 



54 



Ifttneteentb £>av 



Hprtl 



Eighteenth 5>a£. 

Sweet was her blue eye's modest smile . . . 
And down her shoulders graceful roll'd 
Her locks profuse of paly gold. . . . 
She charm'd at once, and tamed the heart. 

Marmion, Canto 5. 



flfneteentb 2>a£. 

At length, an effort sent apart 

The blood that curdled to her heart, 

And light came to her eye, 

And color dawn'd upon her cheek, 

A hectic and a flutter' d streak. 

And when her silence broke at length, 
Still as she spoke she gather' d strength, 
And arm'd herself to bear ; — 
It was a fearful sight to see 
Such high resolve and constancy, 
In form so soft and fair. 

Marmioriy Canto 2. 
55 



Scott 

Hpril 

ttwentietb 2>ag. 

She look'd down to blush, and she look'd up 

to sigh, 
With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye. 

Marmion^ Canto 5. 



£wentE*ffrst 2>ag, 

Her very soul is in home, and in the discharge 
of all those quiet virtues of which home is the 
centre. Her husband will be to her the object 
of all her care, solicitude, and affection. She 
will see nothing, but by him, and through him. 
If he is a man of sense and virtue, she will 
sympathize in his sorrows, divert his fatigue, 
and share his pleasures. If she becomes the 
property of a churlish or negligent husband, 
she will suit his taste also, for she will not long 
survive his unkindness. 

Waverley. 
56 



tlwentsstbirfc 2)a^ 



Hpril 



GwentB^seconfc Bap. 

When there can be uo confidence betwixt a 
man and his plighted wife, it is a sign she has 
no longer the regard for him that made their 
engagement safe and suitable. 

The Heart of Mid-Lothian. 



Cvvent^tbirD Bag. 

She was by nature perfectly good-humoured, 
and if her due share of admiration and homage 
was duly resigned to her, no one could possess 
better temper, or a more friendly disposition ; 
but then, like all despots, the more power that 
was voluntarily yielded to her, the more she 
desired to extend her sway. Sometimes, even 
when all her ambition was gratified, she chose 
to be a little out of health, and a little out 
of spirits. 

The Talisman. 
57 



Scott 

Hptil 

Cwent£*fourtb 2)a^ 

Her look composed, aud steady eye, 
Bespoke a matchless constancy. 

Marmio7i y Canto 2. 



GwentE=ftftb 2>a£, 

The noble dame, amid the broil, 
Shared the gray seneschal's high toil, 
And spoke of danger with a smile ; 
Cheer' d the young knights, and council sage 
Held with the chiefs of riper age. 

The Lay of the Last Minsfrel, Canto 3. 



XLwcnt^eiictb Bag, 

Woman's faith and woman's trust, 
Write the characters in dust. 

The Betrothed. 

58 



Uwent^ssevcntb S)as 



Hpril 



G\ventg*seventb 5>ag. 

Ne'er did Grecian chisel trace 

A Nymph, or Naiad, or a Grace, 

Of finer form, or lovelier face ! 

What though the sun, with ardent frown, 

Had slightly tinged her cheek with brown, 

The sportive toil, which, short and light, 

Had dyed her glowing hue so bright, 

Served too in hastier swell to show 

Short glimpses of a breast of snow ; 

What though no rule of courtly grace 

To measured mood had train'd her pace, — 

A foot more light, a step more true, 

Ne'er from the heath-flower dash' d the dew ; 

E'en the slight hare-bell raised its head, 

Elastic from her airy tread ; 

What though upon her speech there hung 

The accent of the mountain tongue, 

Those silver sounds, so soft, so clear, 

The list'ner held his breath to hear. 

Lady of the Lake, Canto i. 



59 



Scott 



Hpril 



Gwentg^eigbtb Bag. 

Spoilt she was on all hands. . . . But though, 
from these circumstances, the city-beauty had 
become as wilful, as capricious, and as affected, 
as unlimited indulgence seldom fails to render 
those to whom it is extended ; and although she 
exhibited upon many occasions that affectation 
of extreme shyness, silence, and reserve, which 
misses are apt to take for an amiable modesty ; 
and upon others, a considerable portion of that 
flippancy which youth sometimes confounds 
with wit, she had much real shrewdness and 
judgment, which wanted only opportunities of 
observation to refin e it— a lively , good-humoured, 
playful disposition, and an excellent heart. 

The Fortunes of Nigel. 

GwentE=nintb Bag. 

The buoyant vivacity with which she had 
resisted every touch of adversity, had now as- 
sumed the air of composed and submissive, but 
dauntless, resolution and constancy. 

Rob Roy. 

60 



XTbirtietb 2>a\> 

Hpril 

Cbirtietb Dag. 

Her complexion was exquisitely fair, but the 
noble cast of her head and features prevented 
the insipidity which sometimes attaches to fair 
beauties. Her clear blue eye, which sat en- 
shrined beneath a graceful eyebrow of brown, 
sufficiently marked to give expression to the 
forehead, seemed capable to kindle as well as 
to melt, to command as well as to beseech. 

Ivanhoe. 



61 



nDav 



XUilUam TOlor&swortb 



Sbcw us bow oivtne a tbiny 
B ICloman max? be maoe. 

lines to a gonna la?\\ 



63 



XUortswortb 



flDa^ 



fftrst Ba£. 

She was a Phantom of delight 
When first she gleamed upon my sight ; 
A lovely Apparition, sent 
To be a moment's ornament ; 
Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair ; 
Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair; 
But all things else about her drawn 
From May-time and the cheerful Dawn ; 
A dancing Shape, and Image gay, 
To haunt, to startle, and waylay. 

A Phantom of Delight. 



Second S>a£, 

A gentle maid, whose heart is lowly bred, 
With joyousness, and with a thoughtful cheer. 

A Farewell. 
64 



jfeurt!: £\iv 



HDap 



CbtrD 5>a£. 

A Spirit, yet a Woman too ! 
Her household motions light and free, 
And steps of virgin liberty ; 
A countenance in which did meet 
'Sweet records, promises as sweet ; 
A Creature not too bright or good 
For human nature's daily food ; 
For transient sorrows, simple wiles, 
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles. 
A Phantom of Delight. 



jfourtb 5>a£. 

Sister . . . Thy mind 
Shall be a mansion for all lovely forms, 
Thy memory be as a dwelling-place 
For all sweet sounds and harmonies. 

Tin tern Abbey. 
65 



TKHorbswottb 



fl>a£ 



tfiftb 2>a£. 

She gave me eyes, she gave me ears ; 
And humble cares, and delicate fears ; 
A heart, the fountain of sweet tears ; 
And love and thought and joy. 

The Sparrow's Nest. 

5i£tb 2>ag. 

'T is her's to pluck the amaranthine flower 

Of faith, and 'round the sufferer's temples 

bind 

Wreaths that endure affliction's heaviest shower, 

And do not shrink from sorrow's keenest wind. 

Weak is the Will of Man. 

Seventb Bag, 

I praise thee, Matron ! and thy due 

Is praise. . . . 

With admiration I behold 

Thy gladness unsubdued and bold ; 

Thy looks, thy gestures, all present 

The picture of a life well spent. 

The Matron of Jedborough. 
66 



•ttintb 2>as 



fl>ap 



Eigbtb ®a^ 

A blooming girl, whose hair was wet 
With points of morning dew. . . . 
Her brow was smooth and white. . . . 

No fountain from its rocky cave 
E'er tripped with foot so free, 

She seemed as happy as a wave, 
That dances on the sea. 

The Two April Mornings. 

mtntb 5>a£, 

The floating clouds their state shall lend 
To her ; for her the willow bend ; 
Nor shall she fail to see, 
Kven in the motions of the storm, 
Grace that shall mould the Maiden's form 
By silent sympathy. 
The stars of midnight shall be dear 
To her ; and she shall lean her ear 
In many a secret place, 
Where rivulets dance their wayward round, 
And beauty born of murmuring sound 
67 



XUoi^swoitb 



flDa^ 



IRtntb 2>a£ (continued). 
Shall pass into her face. 
And vital feelings of delight 
Shall rear her form to stately height, 
Her virgin bosom swell. ' 

Three Years She Grew in Sun and Shower. 

Gentb 2>a£. 

How blest the Maid whose heart — yet free 

From Move's uneasy sovereignty — 

Beats with a fancy running high, 

Her simple cares to magnify ; 

Whom Labour, never urged to toil, 

Hath cherished on a healthful soil ; 

Who knows not pomp, who heeds not pelf ; 

Whose heaviest sin it is to look 

Askance upon her pretty self 

Reflected in some crystal brook ; 

Whom grief hath spared, — who sheds no tear 

But in sweet pity ; and can hear 

Another's praise from envy clear. 

The Three Cottage Girls* 

68 



cwelftb H>av 



JEIeventb Bag. 



flDa\> 



A Being breathing thoughtful breath, 
A Traveller between life and death ; 
The reason firm, the temperate will, 
Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill ; 
A perfect Woman, nobly planned, 
To warn, to comfort, and command ; 
And yet a Spirit still, and bright 
With something of angelic light. 

A Phantom of Delight. 



ftwelftb 5>a£. 

She was happy, 
Like a spirit of air she moved, 
Wayward, yet by all who knew her 
For her tender heart beloved. 

The Westmoreland GirL 

69 



tlUorfcswortb 



flDa^ 



Gbfrteentb S>a£. 

This light-hearted Maiden. . . . 
High is her aim as Heaven above, 
And wide as either her good-will ; 
And, like the lowly reed, her love 
Can drink its nurture from the scantiest rill ; 
Insight as keen as frosty star 
Is to her charity no bar, 
Nor interrupts her frolic graces. 

The Triad. 



JFourteentb 2>a£. 

O Lady bright, 
Whose mortal lineaments seem all refined 
By favouring Nature, and a saintly mind, 
To something purer and more exquisite 
Than flesh and blood ! 

Sonnet. 
70 



Scrcntccntb !T a r 

fifteenth Stag. 

A maid whom there were none to praise 

And very few to love ; 

A violet by a mossy stone 

Half hidden from the eve ! 

Fair as a star when only one 

Is shining in the sky. 

. r -: ms of the Affectio n s . & 

5i£teetitfi H>ag. 

Whether in the semblance drest 

0: Dawn, or Eve. fair vision of the west, 
Come with each anxious hope subdued. 
By woraa::'? gentle fortitude, 
Za : h grief, through weakness, settling into rest. 

The Triad. 

Scvcntccntb E>a\?. 

H : w rich that forehead's calm expanse ! 
How bright that heaven-directed glance ! 

Poems of the Affections, i;. 

71 



tftor&swortb 



flDa^ 



Btgbteentb ©a£. 

Softly she treads, as if her foot were loth 

To crush the mountain dew-drops, — soon to 

melt 
On the flower's breast ; as if she felt 
That flowers themselves, w 7 hate'er their hue, 
With all their fragrance, all their glistening, 
Call to the heart for inward listening. 

The Triad. 



Ifttneteentb 2>a£. 

Let other bards of angels sing, 

Bright suns without a spot ; 
But thou art no such perfect thing ; 

Rejoice that thou art not ! 

Heed not though none should call thee fair ; 

So, Mar}-, let it be 
If naught in loveliness compare 

With what thou art to me. 

72 



Twentieth Das 



ffl>a£ 



IRineteentb Dag {continued). 

True beauty dwells in deep retreats, 

Whose veil is unremoved 
Till heart to heart in concord beats, 

And the lover is beloved. 

Poems of the Affections, 15. 



Gwenttetb S)a£. 

What heavenly smiles ! O L,ady mine, 
Through my very heart they shine ; 
And, if my brow gives back their light, 
Do thou look gladly on the sight ; 
As the clear moon with modest pride 

Beholds her own bright beams 
Reflected from the mountain's side 

And from the headlong streams. 

Poems of the Affections, 18. 
73 



■fldorfcswortb 



flDa^ 



XL\venty*ftxst Bag. 

How beautiful when up a lofty height 
Honour ascends. 

A Widow . . . 

She wasted no complaint, but strove to make 

A just repayment, both for conscience' sake 

And that herself and hers should stand upright 

In the world's eye. 

The Widow. 

£\ventE=seconD Bag. 

The Maiden grew 
Pious and pure, modest and yet so brave, 
Though young, so wise, though meek, so reso- 
lute. 

Grace Darling. 

Gvvent^tbirD Ba£, 

In her face and mien 
The soul's pure brightness he beheld, 
Without a veil between. 

The Russian Fugitive, 
74 



c\vcnt\>fiftb E>a\: 

Swentg^fourtb Bag. 

We her discretion have observed, 

Her just opinions, delicate reserve, 
Her patience, and humility of mind, 
Unspoiled by commendation. . . . 

The Borderers. 



C\vent\>fiftb E)at>. 

O Lady, worthy of earth's proudest throne ! 
Nor less, by excellence of nature, fit 
Beside an unambitious hearth to sit 
Domestic queen, where grandeur is unknown ; 
What living man could fear 
The worst of Fortune's malice, wert thou near, 
Humbling that lily-stem, thy sceptre meek, 
That its fair flowers may from his cheek 
Brush the too happy tear ! 



The Triad. 



75 



XClci^swcrtb 



m>a$ 



Cwent^sirtb 2>a£. 

Queen, and handmaid lowly ! 
Whose skill can speed the day with lively cares, 

And banish melancholy 
By all that mind invents or hand prepares ; 

Who that hath seen thy beauty could content 
His soul wnth but a glimpse ? 

The Triad. 



C\ventE*seventb 2>a£. 

Dear girl . . . 
If thou appear untouched by solemn thought, 
Thy nature is not therefore less divine ; 
Thou liest in Abraham's bosom all the year ; 
And worshipp'st at the Temple's inner shrine, 
God being with thee when we know it not. 

Sonnet, 
76 






Cwcntvsci.ibtb 8>a^ 



HDav 



C\vent\>ctabtb Dag. 

I knew a maid, 
A young enthusiast . . . 
Her eye was not the mistress of her heart ; 

Far less did rules prescribed by passive taste 
Or barren, intermeddling subtleties, 
Perplex her mind ; but wise as women are 
When genial circumstance hath favoured them, 
She welcomed what was given, and craved no 

more. 
Whate'er the scene presented to her view, 
That was the best, to that she was attuned 
By her benign simplicity of life, 
. . . God delights 

In such a being ; for her common thoughts 
Are piety, her life is gratitude. 

The Prelude, 



;; 



X&orbswortfo 



fIDap 



Gwent^nintb 2>a£* 

Sweet girl, a very shower 

Of beauty is thy earthly dower ! . . . 

Never saw I mien, or face, 

In which more plainly I could trace 

Benignity and homebred sense 

Ripening in perfect innocence. 

A face with gladness overspread ! 
Soft smiles, by human kindness bred ! 
And seemliness complete, that sways 
Thy courtesies, about thee plays. 

To A Highland Girl. 

Gbirtietb 2)a^ 

A maiden . . . 
Lovely as spring's first note . . . Pure 
As beautiful, and gentle and benign. 

A Flower. . . . 
Fairest of all flowers was she. . . . 

She hath an eye that smiles into all hearts, 

Soon would her gentle words make peace. 

The Borderers. 

78 






Tlbutvsfirst Das 



flDap 



Yes ! thou art fair, yet be not moved 

To scorn the declaration, 
That sometimes I in thee have loved 

My fancy's own creation. 

Imagination needs must stir ; 

Dear Maid, this truth believe, 
Minds that have nothing to confer, 

Find little to perceive. 

Be pleased that Nature made thee fit 

To feed my heart's devotion, 
By laws to which all forms submit 

In sky, air, earth, and ocean. 

Poems of the Affections, 16. 



79 



3une 



Ubomas Garble 



Tl&oman was given to man as a benefit, ano for 
mutual support ; a precious ornament ano staff 
wbereupon to lean in mans trying situations. 

JSssas on tfoltaire. 



Si 



Carole 



3une 



afirst 2>a£. 

Clearly a superior woman. — That is the way 
with female intellects when they are good ; 
nothing equals their acuteness, and their 
rapidity is almost excessive. 

Frederick the Great. 



Second Bas* 

Meek and retiring by the softness of her 
nature, yet glowing with an ethereal ardour for 
all that is illustrious and lovely. 

Life of Schiller, 



CbirD 5>a£. 

Perfection of housekeeping was her clear and 
speedy attainment in that new scene. Strange 
how she made the desert blossom for herself and 

82 



jfourtb H)a\: 



3une 



ZblVS 2>a\? (continued). 

me there ; what a fairy palace she had made 
of that wild moorland home of the poor man ! 
From the baking of a loaf, or the darning of a 
stocking, up to comporting herself in the high- 
est scenes or most intricate emergencies, all 
was insight, veracity, graceful success (if you 
could judge it), fidelity to insight of the fact 
given. 

Reminiscences. 



ffourtb 5>a£. 

She was of a compassionate nature, and had 
a loving, patient, and noble heart ; prudent she 
was ; the skilfulest and thriftiest of financiers ; 
could well keep silence, too, and with a gentle 
stoicism endure much small unreason. 

L ife ofSch iller, 
S3 



Carl^le 



3une 



ffiftb 2>a£. 

Her life was busy and earnest ; she was help- 
mate, not in name only, to an ever-busy man. 

Frederick the Great. 



Sijtb 2>a^ 

Peculiar among all dames and damosels, 
glanced Blumine, there in her modesty, like a 
star among earthly lights. Noblest maiden ! 
whom he bent to, in body and in soul ; yet 
scarcely dared look at, for the presence filled 
him with painful yet sweetest embarrassment. 

Sartor Resartus. 



Seventh Bag* 

A bright airy lady ; very graceful, very witty 
and ingenious ; skilled to speak, skilled to hold 

her tongue. 

Frederick the Great. 

84 



TiAintb Dag 



3unc 



Eigbtb Par. 

Far and wide was the fair one heard of, for 
her gifts, her graces, her caprices ; from all 
which vague colourings of Rumour, from the 
censures no less than from the praises, had our 
friend painted for himself a certain imperious 
Queen of Hearts, and blooming warm Earth- 
angel, much more enchanting than your mere 
white Heaven-angels of women, in whose 
placid veins circulates too little naphtha-fire. 

Sartor Resartus, 



■Rinrb E>a\\ 

A tall, rather thin figure ; a i^cz pale, intelli- 
gent, and penetrating; nose fine, rather large, 
and decisively Roman ; pair of bright, not soft, 
but sharp and small black eyes, with a cold 
smile as of enquiry in them; fine brow; fine 
chin; thin lips— lips always gently shut, as 
if till the enquiry were completed, and the 
time came for something of royal speech upon 

55 



Carl^lc 



3une 



Wnlh S>a£ {continued). 

it. She had a slight accent, but spoke — Dr. 
Hugh Blair could not have picked a hole in it 
— and you might have printed every word, so 
queenlike, gentle, soothing, measured, prettily 
royal toward subjects whom she wished to love 
her. The voice was modulated, low, not in- 
harmonious ; yet there was something of metal- 
lic in it, akin to that smile in the eyes. One 
durst not quite love this high personage as she 
wished to be loved ! Her very dress was nota- 
ble ; always the same, and in a fashion of its 
own ; — and must have required daily the fasten- 
ing of sixty or eighty pins. 

Reminiscences. 



Gentb Ba£, 

She had a pleasant, attractive physiognomy ; 
which may be considered better than strict 
beauty. 

Frederick the Great. 
86 



Ubtrteentb 2>a£ 



3une 



Eleventh 2>ag. 

That light, yet so stately form ; those dark 
tresses, shading a face where smiles and sun- 
light played over earnest deeps. . . . He ven- 
tured to address her, she answered with atten- 
tion : nay, what if there were a slight tremour 
in that silver voice ; what if the red glow of 
evening were hiding a transient blush ! 

Sartor Resartus. 



twelfth 2>a£* 

The whims of women must be humoured. 

French Revolution. 



Gbirteentb 2)a^ 

A woman of many household virtues ; to a 
warm affection for her children and husband 
she joined a degree of taste and intelligence 
which is of much rarer occurrence. 

Life of Schiller. 
87 



Carlsle 



3une 



jfourteentb Ba£, 

She is meek and soft and maiden-like. . . . 
A young woman fair to look upon. 

Life of Schiller. 



jfffteentb Bag* 

My dear mother, with the trustfulness of a 
mother's heart, ministered to all my woes, out- 
ward and inward, and even against hope kept 
prophesying good. 

Remin iscences. 



Sixteenth Bag, 

Women are born worshippers ; in their good 
little hearts lies the most craving relish for great- 
ness ; it is even said, each chooses her husband 
on the hypothesis of his being a great man — in 
his way. The good creatures, yet the foolish ! 
Essay on Go ethers Works. 
88 



Seventeenth Bay. 



3une 



Seventeenth E>a£. 

She is of that light unreflecting class, of that 
light unreflecting sex : variant semper et 
mutabile. And then her Fine-lady ism, though 
a purseless one : capricious, coquettish, and 
with all the finer sensibilities of the heart ; 
now in the rackets, now in the sullens ; vivid 
in contradictory resolves ; laughing, weeping, 
without reason, — though these acts are said to 
be signs of season. Consider, too, how she has 
had to work her way, all along, by flattery and 
cajolery ; wheedling, eaves-dropping, namby- 
pambying ; how she needs w T ages, and knows 
no other productive trades. 

The Diamond Necklace. 



8 9 



Carole 



3une 



^Et^bteentb 2>a£. 

Thought can hardly be said to exist in her ; 
only Perception and Device. With an under- 
standing lynx-eyed for the surface of things, 
but which pierces beyond the surface of nothing, 
every individual thing (for she has never seized 
the heart of it) turns up a new face to her every 
new day, and seems a thing changed, a different 
thing. 

The Diamond Necklace. 



flineteentb Bag. 

Reader ! thou for thy sins must have met with 
such fair Irrationals ; fascinating, with their 
lively eyes, with their quick snappish fancies ; 
distinguished in the higher circles, in Fashion, 
even in Literature ; they hum and buzz there, 
on graceful film-wings : — searching, neverthe- 
less, with the wonderfullest skill for honey ; 
untamable as flies ! 

The Diamond Necklace. 
90 



Cwentvssecona 5>ax> 



June 



Gwentfetb 5>a£. 

Nature is very kind to all children, and to all 
mothers that are true to her. 

Frederick the Great. 



ftvventE=ffrst Da£. 

She is of stately figure ; — of beautiful still 
countenance. — A completeness, a decision is 
in this fair female figure ; by energy she means 
the spirit that will prompt one to sacrifice him- 
self for his country. 

French Revolution, 



CwentB*0econ& Da£. 

A clever, high-mannered, massive-minded old 
lady ; admirable as a finished piece of social art, 
but hardly otherwise much. 

Reminiscences, 
9i 



GTarlvie 



June 



ft\ventE=tbirfc Ba£. 

Who can account for the taste of females ? 

The Diamond Xecklace. 



GwentB^fourtb 5>a£. 

A Beauty, but over light-headed : a Booby 
who had fine legs. How these first courted, 
billed, and cooed, according to nature ; then 
pouted, fretted, grew utterly enraged and blew 
one another up. 

Bos we IPs Life of Johnson. 

Z\venty*fiitb JDafi. 

With delicate female tact, with fine female 
stoicism too, keeping all things within limits. 
Frederick the Great. 



ttwentfi*slitb E>an>. 

A true-hearted, sharp-witted sister. 

Essay of Diderot, 
92 



"Cwcnt\;=mntl: 8>af 



3une 



Zwcnt^ecvcntb 8>ai>. 

A graceful, brave, and amiable woman ; — her 
choicest gift an open eye and heart. 

Oliver Cromwell. 



C\ventt?*eigbtb Ba£» 

Every graceful and generous quality of 
womanhood harmoniously blended in her 
nature. 

L ife of Sen iller. 



Cwcnrvj-nintb E>a\\ 

She is a fair vision, the beau ideal of a poet's 
first mistress. 

Life of Seh iller. 
93 



Caddie 



3une 



Cbirtietb Dag, 

Heaven, though severe, is not unkind ; 
Heaven is kind, as a noble mother ; as that 
Spartan mother, saying while she gave her son 

his shield, " With it, my son, or upon it ! " 

Complain not ; the very Spartans did not com- 
plain. 

Past and Present. 






94 



3uto 



Coventry patmore 



f tbfnfe witb utterance free te raise, 
~bat bvmn, for which tee wbole V90tlb tongs,— 

B vcertbr bv;mn, in lOoman's praise. 

cbeBruet in tbe Douse. 



95 



jpatmore 



3ul£ 



jfirst 5>a£. 

"Woman," "Lady," "She," and "Her" 
Are names for perfect Good and Fair. 

The Betrothal — Honoria. 



SeconD H>a£. 

No skill' d complexity of speech, 

Xo heart-felt phrase of tenderest fall, 
No liken'd excellence can reach 

Her, the most excellent of all, 
The best half of creation's best, 

Its heart to feel, its eye to see, 
The crown and complex of the rest, 

Its aim and its epitome. 

The Paragon. 
96 



jfourtb £>as 

3ul£ 

Zbivb S)a^ 

She 's so simply, subtly sweet, 

My deepest rapture does her wrong ; 

My thoughts, that, singing, lark-like soar, 
Soaring perceive they 've still misprized, 

And still forebode her beauty more 
Than can perceived be, or surmised. 

The Paragon. 



jfourtb Ba$, 

By her gentleness made great, 

I 'd teach how noble man should be 
To match with such a lovely mate ; 

And then in her would move the more 
The woman's wish to be desired. 

The Par ag 071. 
97 



IPatmevc 



3m 



ffittb 5)a^ 

In all she said, 
I heard a peaceful seraph talk. 

She seem'd expressly sent below 
To teach our erring minds to see 

The rhythmic change of time's swift flow 
As part of calm eternity. 

The Cathedral Close. 

Sijtb 5>a£. 

Her smile seem'd to confer 

At once high flattery and reproof, 

And self-regard, inspired by her, 
Grew courtly in its own behoof. 

The Cathedral Close. 

Seventh 5>a£, 

In shape no mo~e a Grace, 

But Venus ; milder than the dove : 

Her large sweet eyes, clear lakes of love. 
The Cathedral Close. 






Gentfa Eav 



3ul& 



jEtgbtb Bag. 

She confers 
Bright honor when she breathes my name ; 

Birth's blazon'd patents, shown with her's, 
Are falsified and put to shame ; 
The fount of honor is her smile. 

The Pa rag o)i. 



fltntb 5>a£. 

Her very faults my fancy fired ; 

My loving will, so thwarted, grew ; 
And, bent on worship, I admired 

All that she was, with partial view. 

Mary and Mildred, 



Centb S>as. 

I wonder'd where those daisy eyes 
Had found their touching curve and droop. 
The Cathedral Close. 
99 



l>atmove 



3ul£ 



JSleventb 2)a^ 

She is so perfect, true, and pure, 
Her virtue all virtue so endears. 

Ho no via, 

Gwelttb £>a£. 

Some hidden hand 

Unveils to him that loveliness 
Which others cannot understand. 

His merits in her presence grow, 
To match the promise in her eyes, 

And round her happy footsteps blow 
The authentic airs of Paradise. 

The Lover, 

Cbirteentb 2>a£» 

She 's far too lovely to be wrong ; 
Black, if she pleases, shall be white ; 



Being a Queen her wrong is right. 

The Lover. 
ioo 



Sirtccntb Sa\? 



3m 



fourteenth £>a\\ 

She was all mildness ; yet 't was writ 
Upon her beauty legibly, 
(i He that's for heaven itself unfit, 
Let him not hope to merit me." 

Hon on' a. 



jFlfteentb 5>a£. 

Her disposition is devout, 
Her countenance angelical. 

The Morning Call. 



Sirtecntb 2>a& 

Wrong dares not in her presence speak, 
Nor spotted thought its taint disclose. 

The Morning Call. 

IOI 



|>atmore 

3ul£ 

Seventeenth Ba£. 

In mind and manners how discreet ! 
How artless in her very art ; 
How candid in discourse ; how sweet 
The concord of her lips and heart ; 

How amiable and innocent 

Her pleasure in her power to charm ; 

How humbly careful to attract. . . . 

The Morning Call. 



)£i3bteentb 2>a£* 

She seems the life of nature's powers ; 

Her beauty is the genial thought 
Which makes the sunshine bright ; the flowers, 
But for their hint of her, were nought. 

The Morning Call. 
102 






Uwcnt^sfirst £>a\? 



3ul& 



nineteenth £>a£. 

Her face 
The mirror of the morning seem'd. 

The Morning Call. 



Gwentfetb E>a£, 

Her spirit, compact of gentleness, 

If Heaven postpones or grants her pray'r, 

Conceives no pride in its success, 
And in its failure no despair. 

The Parallel. 



ttwentB^first Bag, 

Girls love to see the men in whom 
They invest their vanities admired. 

The Dean. 

103 



Ipatmore 



3m 



ftwentg^seconft Da^. 

Ah. wasteful woman, she that may 
On her sweet self set her own price, 

Knowing he cannot choose but pay, 
How has she cheapen'd paradise ; 

How given for nought her priceless gift — 
How spoil" d the bread and spill' d the wine, 

Which, spent with due, respective thrift, 
Had made brutes men and men divine. 

The Queen. 



Cwent^tbirS a>a& 

Her step 's an honor to the earth, 
Her form 's the native-land of grace. 

The Espousals — Prologue. 



Cwent^fourtb Da£. 

Let Love be true ! 
'T is that which all right women are. 

The Love Letters. 
104 



rwcnt\>scvetitb 2>a^ 



3ulv 



tt\ventB*ffftb Bag. 

vSbe enter' d like a morning-rose 
Ruffled with rain. 

Beulah. 



CwentE=sirtb Bag. 

Ah, how she laugh'd \ Diviner sense 
Did Nature, forming her, inspire 

To omit the grosser elements 

And make her all of air and fire ! 

The Regatta. 



Zwenty^seventb 2>as. 

L,et my gentle Mistress be, 

In every look, word, deed, and thought, 
Nothing but sweet and womanly ! 

Her virtues please my virtuous mood, 
But what at all times I admire 

Is, not that she is wise or good, 
105 



Ipatmor; 

Gwent^seventb Bag {continued). 

But just the thing which I desire. 

With versatility to bring 
Her mental tone to any strain, 

If oft'nest she is anything. 
Be it thoughtless, talkative, and vain. 

Womanhood. 

tXwent£*etebtb Bag. 

What 
For sweetness like the ten year's wife ? 

The Epilogue. 

Cwentg^nintb Bag, 

Her wealth is your esteem ; beware 

Of finding fault ; her will 's unnerv'd 
By blame ; . . . 

But praise that 's only half deserv'd 
Will all her noble nature stir 

To make your utmost wishes true. 

The Departure. 
1 06 



Cbirtvsfirst 8>a$ 



3m 



Gbirtfetb H>a£. 

Her face 
Is the summ'd sweetness of the earth, 
Her soul the glass of heaven's grace, 
To which she leads me by the hand ; 
Or, briefly all the truth to say 

She is both heaven and the way. 

The Friends. 



cbirt£=ftrst Bap. 

Her lovely life's conditions close, 

Like God's commandments, with content, 

And make an aspect calm and gay, 
Where sweet affections come and go, 

Till all who see her, smile, and say, 
How fair and happy that she 's so ! 

She 's perfect, and if joy was much 

To think her Nature's paragon, 
'T is more that there 's another such ! 

The Friends. 

10; 



i: 



HUQUSt 



Uictor ftmgo 



Son gaje at a star for two motives, because it is lumis 
nous ano because it is impenetrable, l^ou bare bv. vour 
sice a sweeter raoiance ano greater masters— XUoman. 

Xes fllMserables, 



109 



Huguet 

tfitet Bag. 

All her face, all her person, breathed an inef- 
fable love and kindness. She had always been 
predestined to gentleness, but Faith, Hope, and 
Charity, those three virtues that softly warm the 
soul, had gradually elevated that gentleness to 
sanctity. Nature had only made her a lamb, 
and religion had made her an angel. 

Les Miserable s. 



She was the very embodiment of joy as she 
went to and fro in the house ; she brought with 
her a perpetual spring. 

Toilers of the Sea. 
no 



ffiftfo H>a$ 



HUQlWt 



CbtrD 2>a£. 

Her entire person was simplicity, ingenuous- 
ness, whiteness, candor, and radiance, and it 
might have been said of her that she was trans- 
parent. She produced a sensation of April and 
daybreak, and she had dew in her eyes. She 
was the condensation of the light of dawn in a 
woman's form. 

Les Miser able s. 



jfourtb Bag, 

The woman was weak, but the mother found 
strength. 

Ninety- Three. 



fffftb 2>as, 

Woman feels and speaks with the infallibility 
which is the tender instinct of the heart. 

Les Mise" rabies. 



Ibugo 



Hugust 



Sijtb £>a£. 

What is a husband but the pilot in the voyage 
of matrimony ? Wife, let your fine weather be 
your husband's smiles. 

Toilers of the Sea. 



Seventh Bag. 

No one knows like a woman how to say things 
which are at once gentle and deep. Gentleness 
and depth, — in these things the whole of woman 
is contained, and it is heaven. 

Les Miserables. 



^Eighth 5>a£, 

Beauty heightened by simplicity is ineffable, 
and nothing is so adorable as a beauteous, inno- 
cent maiden, who walks along unconsciously, 
holding in her hand the key of Paradise. 

Les Misirables. 
112 






3£lcrcntb E>a\? 

Huflust 

flintb Dav. 

She had the prettiest little hands in the world, 
and little feet to match them. Sweetness and 
goodness reigned throughout her person ; . . . 
her occupation was only to live her daily life ; 
her accomplishments were the knowledge of a 
few songs ; her intellectual gifts were summed 
up in her simple innocence. 

To He ) s of th e Sea. 



Centb Da& 

The coquette is blind : she does not see her 
wrinkles. 

By Order of the King. 



Eleventb Ba^. 

A mother's arms are made of tenderness, and 
children sleep soundly in them. 

Lcs Miserable s. 

113 



Ibugo 



Huguet 



Cwelftb 5>a£. 

There are moments when a woman accepts, 

like a sombre and resigned duty, the worship 

of love. 

Les Miserables. 



Cbirteentb Bas. 

She was pale with that paleness which is like 
the transparency of a divine life in an earthly 
face. . . . A soul standing in the dawn. 

By Order of the King, 

ffourteentb 2>a£. 

He looked at her, and saw nothing but her. 
This is love ; one may be carried away for a 
moment by the importunity of some other idea, 
but the beloved one enters, and all that does 
not appertain to her presence immediately 
fades away, without her dreaming that perhaps 
she is effacing in us a world. 

By Order of the King. 
114 



Sirtccntb 5>a\: 



BtlQUSt 



jfitteentb 5>a£, 

She walked on with a light and free step, so 
little suggestive of the burden of life that it 
might easily be seen that she was young. Her 
movements possessed that subtle grace which 
indicates the most delicate of all transitions — 
the soft intermingling, as it were, of two twi- 
lights, — the passage from the condition of a 
child to that of womanhood. 

Toilers of the Sea. 



Stjteentb H>a& 

She had never been pretty, but her whole 
life, which had been but a succession of pious 
works, had eventually cast over her a species of 
whiteness and brightness, and in growing older 
she had acquired what may be called the beauty 
of goodness. What had been thinness in her 
youth had became in her maturity transparency, X 
and through this transparency the angel could J 

be seen. 

Les Miserables, 



Huoust 

Seventeentb 2)a£. 

A ray of happiness was visible upon her face. 
Never had she appeared more beautiful. Her 
features were remarkable for prettiness rather 
than what is called beauty. Their fault, if 
fault it be, lay in a certain excess of grace. . . . 
The ideal virgin is the transfiguration of a face 
like this. Deruchette, touched by her sorrow 
and love, seemed to have caught that higher 
and more holy expression. It was the difference 
between the field daisy and the lily. 

Toilers of the Sea, 



JEigbteentb 5>a^ 

The glance of a woman resembles certain 

wheels which are apparently gentle but are 

formidable. . . . You come, you go, you dream, 

you speak, you laugh, and all in a minute you 

feel yourself caught, and it is all over with you. 

The wheel holds you, the glance has caught 

you. 

Les Miserables, 

116 



tTwentgsffrst E)a>? 



HUQUSt 



Wneteentb 2>a£, 

She had listened to nothing, but mothers hear 
certain things without listening. 

Ninety- Three. 



^twentieth 2>a£, 

She was really a respectable, firm, equitable, 
and just person, full of that charity which con- 
sists in giving, but not possessing to the same 
extent the charity which comprehends and 

pardons. 

Les Miserable s. 



Uwent^first 2)a£. 

She seemed a vision scarcely embodied ; . . . 
in her fairness, which amounted almost to trans- 
parency ; in the august and reserved serenity of 
her look ; ... in the sacred innocence of her 
smile, she was almost an angel, and yet just a 

woman. 

By Order of the King. 

117 



HUQUSt 

The girl becomes a maiden, fresh and joyous 
as the lark. Noting her movements, we feel as 
if it were good of her not to fly away. The dear 
familiar companion moves at her own sweet 
will about the house ; flits from branch to 
branch, or rather from room to room ; goes to 
and fro ; approaches and retires. . . . She asks 
a question and is answered ; is asked something 
in return, and chirps a reply. It is delightful to 
chat with her when tired of serious talk ; for 
this creature carries with her something of her 
skyey element. She is, as it were, a thread of 
gold interwoven w T ith your sombre thoughts ; 
you feel almost grateful to her for her kindness 
in not making herself invisible, when it would 
be so easy for her to be even impalpable ; for 
the beautiful is a necessity of life. \ There is in 
the world no function more important than 






that of being charming.\ . . To shed joy around, 

to radiate happiness, to cast light upon dark 

days, to be the golden thread of our destiny, and 

118 



tTwentvsfourtfo £>a\} 



HUQUSt 



Gwent^seconfc Bag (continued). 

the very spirit of grace and harmony, is not this 
to render a service ? 

Toilers of the Sea. 



ftwentE=tbir& Ba£, 

She scarcely knew, perhaps, the meaning of 
the word love, and yet not unwillingly ensnared 
those about her in the toils. 

Toilers of the Sea. 

£went£=tourtb Bag* 

She stopped. She walked back a few paces, 
stopped again ; she inclined her head, with 
those thoughtful eyes which look attentive yet 
see nothing. . . . Her lowered eyelids had that 
vague contraction which suggests a tear checked 
in its course, or a thought suppressed. . . . Her 
face, which might inspire adoration, seemed 
meditative, like portraits of the Virgin. 

Toilers of the Sea. 
119 



fbuao 

HUQUSt 

Zvoentyefittb 2>a£, 

She broke the bread into two fragments, and 

gave them to the children, who ate with avidity. 

"She has kept none for herself," grumbled the 

sergeant. "Because she is not hungry," said 

a soldier. " Because she is a mother," said the 

sergeant. 

9 Ninety-Three, 



ftwent£=sf£tb Bag. 

Extreme simplicity touches on extreme 

coquetry. . . . They did not speak, they did not 

bow, they did not know each other, but they 

met ; and like the stars in the heavens, they 

lived by looking at each other. It was thus 

that she gradually became a woman, and was 

developed into a beautiful and loving woman, 

conscious of her beauty and ignorant of her 

love. She was a coquette into the bargain, 

through her innocence. 

Les Miserables. 

120 



HllQUSt 

TL\venty*scventb Bag. 

Does not beauty confer a benefit upon us, 
even by the simple fact of being beautiful ? — 
Here and there we meet with one who possesses 
that fairy-like power of enchanting all about 
her ; sometimes she is ignorant herself of this 
magical influence, which is, however, for that 
reason only the more perfect. Her presence 
lights up the home ; her approach is like cheer- 
ful warmth ; she passes by, and we are content ; 
she stays awhile, and we are happy. 

Toilers of the Sea. 



Cvvent^etgbtb £>a£. 

To behold her is to live ; she is the Aurora with 
a human face. She has no need to do more than 
simply to be ; she makes an Eden of the house ; 
Paradise breathes from her : and she communi- 
cates this delight to all, without taking any 
greater trouble than that of existing beside 
121 



1bugo 



Hugust 



Gwent£=etgbtb 5>a£ {continued). 

them. Is it not a thing divine to have a smile 
which, none know how, has the power to 
lighten the weight of that enormous chain 
which all the living, in common, drag behind 
them? 

Toilers of the Sea, 



XLxventy*nintb 2>a£. 

On the day when a woman who passes before 
you emits light as she walks you are lost, for 
you love. You have from that moment but one 
thing to do : think of her so intently that she 
will be compelled to think of you. 

Les Misirables. 



OTrirtietb 2>a£, 

The soul only needs to see a smile in a white 
crepe bonnet in order to enter the palace of 
dreams. 

Les Miskrables. 
122 



tCbirtgsftrst S)av 



aufiust 



Cblrt^first 5>a£, 

She had upon her lips almost the light of a 
smile, with the fulness of tears in her eyes. . . . 
The reflection of an angel was in her look. 

Toilers of the Sea. 



123 



September 



IRobert Browning 



TIGlomen, mooels of tbeir ser, 
Society's true ornament, 

H)ramattc Xsrics. 



125 



drowning 



September 



There is a vision in the heart of each 

Of justice, mercy, wisdom, tenderness 

To wrong and pain, and knowledge of its cure : 

And these embodied in a woman's form 

That best transmits them, pure as first received, 

From God above her, to mankind below. 

Colombo s Birthday, 



Second 2>a£. 

This woman . . . 
. . . Being true, devoted, constant— she 
Found constancy, devotion, truth, the plain 
And easy commonplace of character. 

The Inn Album. 
126 



tfourtb £>a$ 



September 



Gbirft Bag. 

. . . The good and tender heart, 
Its girl's trust and its woman's constancy, 
How pure yet passionate, how calm yet kind, 
How grave yet joyous, how reserved yet free 
As light where friends are — how imbued with 

lore 
The world most prizes, yet the simplest. 

Herself creates 
The want she means to satisfy. 

A Blot on the 'Scutcheon. 



Jfourtb 2>a£, 

Truly, the woman's way 
High to lift heart up. 

Agamemnon. 
127 



Browning 



September 



fifth Bar?. 

And MichaTs face 
Still wears that quiet and peculiar light 
Like the dim circlet floating 'round a pearl. 

And yet her calm sweet countenance, 

Though saintly, was not sad ; for she would sing 

Alone . , . bird-like, 

Not dreaming you were near. — Her carols clropt 

In flakes through that old leafy bower. 

Paracelsus. 



Sirtb 5>a£. 

„ . . Such a lady, cheeks so round and lips so 
red.— 

On her neck the small face buoyant like a bell- 
flower on its bed. 

Lyric. 

120 



£:;'::': r.v: 



September 



Scvcntb E>ar. 

There 's a woman like a dew-drop, she 's so 
purer than the pure-: ; 

And her noble heart 's the noblest, yes, and her 

sure faith 's the sure 5; : 
And her eyes are dark and humid, like the 

depth on depth of lustre 
Hid i' the harebell, while her tresses, sunnier 

than the wild-grape cluster, 
Gush In golden-tinted plenty down her neck's 

rose-m:s:e.i marble ; 
Then her ve ice's music . . . call it the well's 

bubbling, the bird's warble ! 

A Blot on the 'Scutcheon. 



Etybtb Sat;. 

How twinks thine eye, my Love. 
Bine as yon star-beam. 

F-;rishtah's Fancies. 
129 



drowning 

September 

Ifttntb H>a£. 

That flower-like love of hers ; 

She was true — she only of them all ! 
True to her eyes, . . . those glorious eyes. 

With truth and purity go other gifts, 
All gifts come clustering to that. 

The Return of the Druses. 



ftentb 2>a£* 

Good as beautiful is she, 
With gifts that match her goodness, no faint 

flaw 
I' the white ; — she were the pearl you think you 
saw. 

Daniel Bartoli. 
130 






Uvvelftb 2>a$ 



September 



^Eleventh 2>aE* 

Since beneath my roof 
Housed she who made home heaven, in heaven's 

behoof 
I went forth every day, and all day long 
Worked for the world. Look, how the laborer's 

song 
Cheers him ! Thus sang my soul, at each sharp 

throe 
Of laboring flesh and blood — "She loves me 

so!" 

A Forgiveness. 



Cvvelftb 5>as* 

It is conspicuous in a woman's nature 

Before its view to take a grace for granted : 

Too trustful, — on her boundary, usurpature 

Is swiftly made ; 

But swiftly, too, decayed, 

The glory perishes by woman vaunted. 

Agamemnon. 
131 



JBvowntna 



September 



Sbirteentb Bag, 

That fawn-skin-dappled hair of hers ; 

And the blue eye 

Dear and dewy, 
And that infantine fresh air of hers ! 

Eyes and mouth too, 
All the face composed of flowers. . . . 

. . . The sweet face . . . 
Be its beauty 
Its sole duty ! 

A Pretty Woman, 



jfourteentb Dap 

Women hate a debt as 
Men a gift. 

In a Balcony. 
132 



£fnbteentb 2>a$ 



September 



ffifteentb 5>a£. 

A pretty woman 's worth some pains to see, 
Xor is she spoiled, I take it, if a crown 
Complete the forehead pale and tresses pure. 

Colombo s Bij'thday. 

Stjteentb 5>ay. 

Sure, 't is no woman's part to long for battle ; 

Who conquers mildly 

God from afar benignantly regardeth. 

Agame7)ino?i. 

Seventeentb £>a£. 

Man's best and woman's worse 
Amount so nearly to the same thing. 

Daniel Bartoli* 

JEiQbtccrxtb 5>a£. 

Nature's law . . . 
Given the peerless woman, certainly 
Somewhere shall be the peerless man to match. 

The Inn Album, 
133 



36rownm<j 



September 



flineteentb Ba£. 

Show me where 's the woman won without 
The help of one lie which she believes — 
That — never mind how things have come to pass, 
And let who loves have loved a thousandtim.es — 
All the same he now loves her only, loves 
Her ever . . . 

The Inn Album, 



Cvventietb 5>a£. 

Girl with sparkling eyes . . . 

What an angelic mystery you are — 

You have a full fresh joyous sense cf life 
That finds you out life's fit food everywhere ; 

By joyance you inspire joy. 

The Inn Album. 
134 



September 

Cvvcntv^ffrst E>av>. 

Now makes twice 

That I have seen her, walked and talked 
With the poor pretty thoughtful thing, 
Whose worth I weigh ; she tries to sing : 
Draws, hopes in time the eye grows nice; 
Reads verse and thinks she understands ; 
Loves all, at any rate, that 's great, 
Good, beautiful . . . 

Dis A liter Visum. 



Wave my lady dear a last farewell, 
Lamenting who to one and all of us 
Domestics was a mother, myriad harms 
She used to ward away from every one, 
And mollify her husband's ireful mood. 

Balaustiorts Adventure. 

135 



SBrownhtg 



September 



Men ? say you have the power 
To make them yours, rule men, throughout 

life's little hour, 
According to the phrase : what follows ? 

Men, you make, 
By ruling them, your own ; each man for his 

own sake 
Accepts you as his guide, avails him of what 

worth 
He apprehends in you to sublimate his earth 
With fire ; content, if so you convey him 

through night, 
That you shall play the sun, and he, the satel- 
lite, 
Pilfer your light and heat and virtue, starry 

pelf, 

While, caught up by your course, he turns upon 
himself. 

Fifine at the Fair. 



136 



'Cwentvsfiftb Bav 



September 



vTwent^fourtb Ba£. 

Any sort of woman may bestow 
Her atom on the star, or clod she counts for 

such, — 
Bach little making less bigger by just that 

much. 

Women grow you, while men depend on you at 

best. 

Fifine at the Fair. 



£went£=fiftb 5>a£. 

Woman, and will you cast 
For a word, quite off at last 

Me your own, your You, — 
Love, if you knew the light 
That your soul casts in my sight, 

How I look to you 

For the pure and true, 
And the beauteous and the right, — 
Bear with a moment's spite 
When a mere mote threats the white ! 

A Lovers Quarrel. 
137 



Srowniiu] 



September 



Z\ventv*6\xtb 5)a^ 

Love, you did give all I asked, I think — 
More than I merit, yes, by many times. 
But had you — oh, with the same perfect brow, 
And perfect eyes, and more than perfect mouth, 
And the low voice my soul hears, as a bird 
The fowler's pipe, and follows to the snare — 
Had you, with these the same, but brought a 

mind ! 
Some women do so. Had the mouth there 

urged, 
" God and the glory ! never care for gain ; 
The present by the future, what is that ? 
Live for fame, side by side with Agnolo ! 
Rafael is waiting : up to God, all three ! " 
I might have done it for you. So it seems ; 
Perhaps not. All is as God overrules. 

Andrea Del Sarto. 



r 3 8 



cwentvseigbtb 2>a\: 



September 



Zwenty^seventh Bay. 

All women love great men 
If young or old ; it is in all the tales ; 
Young beauties love old poets who can love — 

Who was a queen and loved a poet once 
Humpbacked, a dwarf? ah, women can do that! 

In a Balcony. 



ftwentg^elgbtb S>a£. 

For women 

There is no good of life but love — but love ! 
What else looks good, is some shade flung from 

love ; 
Love gilds it, gives it worth. Be warned by me. 
Never you cheat yourself one instant ! Love, 
Give love, ask only love, and leave the rest ! 

In a Balcony, 
139 



drowning 



September 



GwentE=mntb 2>ag. 

Oh, the beautiful girl . . . 
. . . Her flesh was the soft seraphic screen 
Of a soul that is meant . . . 

To just see earth, and hardly be seen, 
And blossom in heaven instead. 

Yet earth saw one thing, one how fair ? 

One grace that grew to its full . . . 
. . . She had her great gold hair. 

Hair, such a wonder of flix and floss, 

Freshness and fragrance — floods of it, too ! 
Gold, did I say ? Nay, gold 's mere dross ! 

Gold Hair. 



140 



Ubfrtfetb S>a\? 



September 



Zbixtieth 3E>a& 

She had 

A heart — how shall I say ? — too soon made glad, 

Too easily impressed : she liked whate'er 

She looked on, and her looks went everywhere. 

'T was all one ! My favour at her breast, 
The dropping of the daylight in the West, 
The bough of cherries some officious fool 
Broke in the orchard for her, — all and each 
Would draw from her alike the approving 

speech, 
Or blush at least . . . 
. . . Who 'd stoop to blame 
This sort of trifling ? 

My Last Duchess. 



141 



©ctober 



XHlxUiant flDafcepeace TTbacfcerap 



JSlesseo be— blesses tbougb mavjbe undeserving— wbo 

bas tbe love of a gooo woman. 

Cbe ltewcomes. 



143 



Zbacbevay 

©ctober 

To be doing good for some one else, is the 
life of most good women. They are exuberant 
of kindness, as it were, and must impart it to 
some one. 

Henry Esmond. 



Second E>a£* 

Who ever accused women of being just ? 
They are always sacrificing themselves or 
somebody for somebody else's sake. 

Pendennis. 
144 



October 

CbirS Sat). 

I think it is not national prejudice which 
makes me believe that a high-bred English 
lady is the most complete of all Heaven's sub- 
jects in this worlf.. In whom else do you see 

faith, and so mu:h tenalerness ; with such a 
perfect refinement and chastity?' And by 

high-'::re:i la vies I don't mean duchesses and 
countesses. Be they ever so hicm in station, 
they can be but la hies, and no mere. But 
almost every man who lives in the world has 
the hayniness, let us hepe. of counting a few 
such persons amongst his circle of acquaint- 
ance. — women, in whose angelical natures 

ueraest of us must fall down and humble our- 
selves, in admiration of that adorable purity 
which ue~er seems to do or to think wrong. 

P-sndennis. 



?- : 



October 

ffourtb Ba£, 

What kind-hearted woman, young or old, 
does not love match-making ? 

The Newcomes, 



ffittb Bag. 

Who does not know how ruthlessly women 
will tyrannize when they are let to domineer? 
And who does not know how useless advice is ? 
... A man gets his own experience about 
women, and will take nobody's hearsay ; nor, 
indeed, is the young fellow worth a fig that 
would. 

Henry Esmond. 



5i£tb 2>a£« 

Stupid ! Why not ? Some women ought to 

be stupid. What you call dulness I call repose. 

Give me a calm woman, a slow woman,— a 

lazy, majestic woman. Show me a gracious 

146 



Sirtb £>a\: 

©ctober 

Slltb 5>a£ (continued). 

virgin bearing a lily ; not a leering giggler 
frisking a rattle. A lively woman would be 
the death of me. . . . Why shouldn't the 
Sherriek be stupid, I say ? About great beauty 
there should always reign a silence. As you 
look at the great stars, the great ocean, any 
great scene of nature, you hush, sir. You laugh 
at a pantomime, but you are still in a temple. 
When I saw the great Venus of the Louvre, I 
thought, — Wert thou alive, O goddess, thou 
shouldst never open those lovely lips but to 
speak lowly, slowly ; thou shouldst never de- 
scend from that pedestal but to walk stately to 
some near couch, and assume another attitude 
of beautiful calm. To be beautiful is enough. 
If a woman can do that well ; who shall de- 
mand more from her ? You don't want a rose 
to sing. And I think wit is as out of place 
where there's great beauty; as I wouldn't 
have a queen to cut jokes on her throne. 

The Newcomes, 



M7 



Cbacfceravj 

©ctober 



Seventh ©a& 



And so it is, — a pair of bright eyes with a 
dozen glances suffice to subdue a man ; to 
enslave him, and inflame him ; to make him 
even forget ; they dazzle him so that the past 
becomes straightway dim to him ; and he 
would give all his life to possess 'em. 

Henry Esmond. 



JEigbtb Da£. 

She is as good a little creature as can be. 
She is never out of temper ; I don't think she 
is very wise ; but she is uncommonly pretty, 
and her beauty grows on you. ... I look at 
her like a little wild-flower in a field, — like a 
little child at play, sir. Pretty little tender 
nursling. If I see her passing in the street I 
feel as if I would like some fellow to be rude to 
her, that I might have the pleasure of knocking 
him down. She is like a little song-bird, sir, — 
14S 



tteittf) E\n; 

October 

jBigbtt ©aB [continued). 

a tremulous, fluttering little linnet that you 
would take into your hand, and smooth its 
little plumes, and let it perch on your finger 

and sing. 

The Xewcomes. 



ffUntb Sax?. 

That fine blush which is her pretty symbol 
of youth, modesty, and beauty. ... I never 
saw such a beautiful violet as that of her eyes. 
Her complexion is of the pink of the blush-rose. 

The Xezc copies . 



Centb 9a\\ 

He thought and wondered a: the way in 
which women play with men, and coax them 
and win them and drop them. 

PendenniSy 
*49 



Ubackera^ 

©ctober 

JEleventh Dag* 

It was this lady's disposition to think kind- 
nesses, and devise silent bounties and to 
scheme benevolence, for those about her. We 
take such goodness, for the most part, as if it 
were our due ; the Marys who bring ointment 
for our feet get but little thanks. Some of us 
never feel this devotion at all, or are moved by 
it to gratitude or acknowledgment ; others only 
recall it years after, when the days are past in 
which those sweet kindnesses were spent on 
us, and we offer back our return for the debt 
by a poor tardy payment of tears. The for- 
gotten tones of love recur to us, and kind 
glances shine out of the past — O so bright and 
clear ! — O so longed after ! because they are out 
of reach ; as holiday music from withinside a 
prison wall — or sunshine seen through the bars ; 
more prized because unattainable, more bright 
because of the contrast of present darkness and 
solitude, whence there is no escape. 

Henry Esmond. 

150 



tEbirteentb 2>a$ 

©ctober 

Gwelftb Dag. 

Brighter eyes there might be, and faces more 
beautiful, but none so dear, — no voice so sweet 
as that of his beloved, who had been sister, 
mother, goddess to him during his youth, — 
goddess now no more, for he knew of her 
weaknesses ; . . . but more fondly cherished as 
woman perhaps than ever she had been adored 
as divinity. What is it ? Where lies it ! the 
secret which makes one little hand the dearest 
of all ? Whoever can unriddle that mystery ? 

Henry Esmond. 



Cbirteentb 5>a£, 

In houses where, in place of that sacred, 
inmost flame of love, there is discord at the 
centre, the whole household becomes hypo- 
critical, and each lies to his neighbor. . . . 
Alas that youthful love and truth should end in 
bitterness and bankruptcy. ... 'T is a hard 
task for women in life, that mask which the 
151 



'Cbacfceravs 

October 

Sbitteentb E>a£ {continued). 

world bids them wear. But there is no greater 
crime than for a woman who is ill used and 
unhappy to show that she is so. The world is 
quite relentless about bidding her to keep a 
cheerful face. 

Henry Esmond. 



ffourteentb 3Da£. 

0> what a mercy it is that these women do 
not exercise their powers oftener. We can't 
resist them if they do. Let them show ever so 
little inclination and men go down on their 
knees at once ; old or ugly it is all the same, 
and this I set down as a positive truth. A 
woman with fair opportunities, and without an 
absolute hump, may marry whom she likes. 
Only let us be thankful that the darlings are 
like the beasts of the field and don't know their 
own powers. They would overcome us entirely 
if they did. 

The Newcomes. 
152 



Sirtecntb S)a^ 

October 

jfttteentb Bag. 

As for women — O my dear friends and breth- 
ren in this vale of tears — did you ever see any- 
thing so curious and monstrous and annoying 
as the way in which women court Princekin 
when he is marriageable ! 

The Neii' comes. 



Sixteenth S>a£, 

She was as gentle and amenable to reason 5 as 
good-natured a girl as could be ; a little vacant 
and silly, but some men like dolls for wives. 

The Newcomes. 



October 

Seventeenth 2>a£. 

She bad been bred to measure ber actions by 

a standard which the world may nominally 

admit, but which it leaves for the most part 

unheeded. Worship, love, duty, as taught her 

by the devout study of the sacred law which 

interprets and defines it — if these formed the 

outward practice of her life, they were also its 

constant and secret endeavor and occupation. 

She spoke but very seldom of her religion, 

though it filled her heart and influenced all her 

behavior. What must the world appear to such 

a person ? 

The New comes. 



There are ladies, who may be called men's 
women, being welcomed entirely by all the 
gentlemen, and cut or slighted by all their 
wives. . . . But while simple folks who are out 
of the world, or country people with a taste for 
the genteel, behold these ladies in their seem- 
154 



TEigbtccntb Ba^ 

©ctober 

JBigbteentb Da£ [continued). 

ing glory in public places, or envy them from 
afar off, persons who are better instructed could 
inform them that these envied ladies have no 
more, chance of establishing themselves in 
"Society," than the benighted squire's wife in 
Somersetshire, who reads of their doings in the 
Morning Post. Men living about town are 
aware of these awful truths. You hear how 
pitilessly many ladies of seeming rank and 
wealth are excluded from this "Society." The 
frantic efforts which they make to enter this 
circle, the meannesses to which they submit, 
the insults which they undergo, are matters 
of wonder to those who take human or woman 
kind for a study ; and the pursuit of fashion 
under difficulties would be a fine theme for 
any very great person who had the wit, the 
leisure, and the knowledge of the English 
language necessary for the compiling of such 
a history. 

Vanity Fair. 



'Cbacfceras 

Qctobcv 

IRineteentb Bag. 

I can fancy nothing more cruel than to have 

to sit day after day with a dull handsome 

woman opposite ; to answer her speeches about 

the weather, housekeeping, and what not. . . . 

Women go through this simpering and smiling 

life and bear it quite easily. Theirs is a life 

of hypocrisy. What good woman does not 

laugh at her husband's or father's jokes and 

stories time after time and would not laugh at 

breakfast, lunch, and dinner if he told them ? 

Flattery is their nature, — to coax, flatter, and 

sweetly befool some one is every woman's 

business. She is none, if she declines this 

office. 

The Newcomes. 



{Twentieth Ba^. 

He had placed himself at her feet so long 
that the poor little woman had been accustomed 
to trample upon him. She did n't wish to marry 

i 5 6 



©ctober 

CwentlCtb 5>a£ {continued). 

him, but she wished to keep him. She wished 
to give him nothing, but that he should give 
her all. It is a bargain not unfrequently levied 

in love. 

Vanity Fair. 

Cvvent^ffrst Ba^» 

Every woman would rather be beautiful, than 
be anything else in the world, — ever so rich, or 
ever so good, or have all the gifts of the fairies. 

The Virginians. 

G\ventE=seconD Ba^, 

Is not a young mother one of the sweetest 
sights which life shows us ? If she has been 
beautiful before, does not her present pure joy 
give a character of refinement and sacredness 
almost to her beauty, touch her sweet cheeks 
with fairer blushes, and impart I know not 
what serene brightness to her eyes ? 

The New comes. 
157 



©ctober 

Cvvent^=tbtrD Ba£, 

If a man is in grief, who cheers him ; in 
trouble, who consoles him ; in wrath, who 
soothes him ; in joy, who makes him doubly 
happy ; in prosperity, who rejoices ; in dis- 
grace, who backs him against the world, and 
dresses with gentle unguents and warm poul- 
tices the rankling wounds made by the stings 
and arrows of outrageous Fortune? Who but 
woman, if you please ? You who are ill and 
sore from the buffets of Fate, have you one or 
two of these sweet physicians ? Return thanks 
to the gods that they have left you so much 
of consolation. What gentleman is not more 
or less a Prometheus ? Who has not his rock, 
his chain? But the sea-nymphs come, — the 
gentle, the sympathizing ; . . . they do their 
blessed best to console us Titans ; they don't 
turn their backs upon us after our overthrow. 

The Virginians. 



158 



October 

awent^tourtb 2>a^ 

She 's very kind, you know, and all that, but 
I don't think she *s what you call comme ilfaut. 
... I can't tell you what it is, or how it is, 
only one can't help seeing the difference. It 
isn't rank and that; only somehow there are 
some men gentlemen and some not, and some 
women ladies acd some not. . . . And so 
about Aunt Maria, she's very finely dressed, 
only somehow she 's not — she 's not the ticket, 
you see. . . . What I mean is, — but never 
mind, I can't tell what I mean. . . . but Aunt 
Ann is different, and it seems as if what she 
says is more natural ; and though she has funny 
ways of her own, too, yet somehow T she looks 
grander, — And do you know, I often think that 
as good a lady as Aunt Ann herself is old Aunt 
Honeyman — that is, in all essentials, you know. 
And she is not a bit ashamed of letting lodgings 
or being poor herself. 

The Newcomes. 



159 



Ubacfeera$ 

©ctober 

Gweitts*ffftb S>a£. 

This lady moved through the world quite 
regardless of all the comments that were made 
in her praise or disfavor. She did not seem to 
know that she was admired or hated for being 
so perfect, but went on calmly through life, 
saying her prayers, loving her family, helping 
her neighbors, and doing good. 

Pendennis. 



£wentE=si£tb 2>a£» 

She had a fault of character which flawed 
her perfections. With the other sex perfectly 
tolerant and kindly, of her own she was in- 
variably jealous ; and a proof that she had this 
vice is, that though she would acknowledge a 
thousand faults that she had not, to this which 
she had she could never be got to own. 

Henry Esmond. 
1 60 



UvpentvseiabtfD 2Das 

October 

Cwent^seventb Bag* 

She was a critic, not by reason, but by feeling. 
Feeling was her reason. 

Henry Esmond. 



She was silent for a while. I could see that 
she was engaged where pious women ever will 
betake themselves in moments of doubt, of grief, 
of pain, of separation, of joy even, or whatsoever 
other trial. They have but to will, as it were 
an invisible temple rises round them ; their 
hearts can kneel down there ; and they have 
an audience of the great, the merciful, untiring 
Counsellor and Consoler. 

The Ne7vcomes. 
161 



©ctober 

3wentg«nintb Bag. 

Her eyes were gray ; her voice low and 
sweet : and her smile when it lighted up her 
face and eyes as beautiful as spring sunshine, 
also, they could brighten and flash often, and 
sometimes though rarely rain. 

Pendennis. 

Cbtrtietb £>a£. 

They were now in daily communication and 
" my-dearesting " each other with that female 
fervor which cold men of the world as we are — 
not only chary of warm expressions of friend- 
ships, but averse to entertaining warm feelings 
at all — we surely must admire in persons of the 
inferior sex, whose loves grow up and reach 
the skies in a night ; who kiss, embrace, con- 
sole, call each other by Christian names in that 
sweet kindly sisterhood of misfortune and com- 
passion, who are always entering into partner- 
ship here in life. 

The Newcomes, 
162 



©ctober 

Sure, love vincit omnia ; is immeasurably 
above all ambition, more precious than wealth, 
more noble than name. He knows not life 
who knows not that : he hath not felt the 
highest faculty of the soul who hath not 
enjoyed it. In the name of my wife I write 
the completion of hope, and the summit of 
happiness. To have such a love is the one 
blessing, in comparison of which all earthly 
joy is of no value ; and to think of her is to 
praise God. 

Henry Esmond. 



163 



IRovember 



Hltrefc, Xorfc Gennyson 



Every, man, f;r tbe safce of tbe great blessefc flfcotber in 
beaven, ano for tbe love of bis own little motber on eartb, 
sbouR banMe all womanfeinfc gently, and bote tbem in all 
bononr. 

T&be foresters. 



ttcnirosoit 



Wovember 



first E>a£. 

Behold her eyes 
Beyond my knowing of them, beautiful, 
Beyond all knowing of them, wonderful. 
Beautiful in the light of holiness. 

The Ho?: Grail. 

All her thoughts as fair within her eyes, 
As bottom agates seem to wave and float 
In crystal currents of clear morning seas. 

The Princess, 

Her eyes are homes of silent prayer. 

/;/ Jlemoriam. 



Second E>a\\ 

The bearing and the training of a child 
Is woman's wisdom. 

The Princess. 
1 66 



ffourtb S>av 

1Ro\>ember 

^TbtrD S>a£. 

Byes not down-dropt uor over bright, but fed 
With the clear-pointed flame of chastity, 
Clear, without heat, undying, tended by 
Pure vestal thoughts in the translucent fane 
Of her still spirit ; locks not wide dispread, 
Madonna- wise on either side her head ; 
Sweet lips whereon perpetually did reign 
The summer calm of golden charity. 

The stately flower of female fortitude, 
Of perfect wifehood and pure lowlihead. 

Isabel. 

ffourtb £>aE* 

Everywhere 
L,ow voices with the ministering hand 
Hung 'round the sick ; the maidens came, they 

talked, 
They sang, they read ; till she not fair, began 
To gather light, and she that was, became 
Her former beauty treble ; and to and fro 
167 



tTennvson 

IRovember 

ffOUrtb S>a£ {continued). 

With books, with flowers, and angel offices, 
Like creatures native unto gracious act, 
And in their own clear element, they moved. 

The Princess. 

jfittb 2>afi. 

The woman's cause is man's ; they rise or sink 
Together, dwarfed or godlike, bond or free ; 

If she be small, slight-natured, miserable, 

How shall men grow ? 

The Princess. 

5t£tb 2>a£. 

When the man wants weight, the woman takes 

it up, 
And topples down the scales ; but this is fixt 
As are the roots of earth and base of all. 
Man for the field, and woman for the hearth ; 
Man for the sword, and for the needle she ; 
Man with the head, and woman with the heart ; 
Man to command, and woman to obey. 

The Princess. 
168 



Seventh 3>a$ 

IRovember 

Seventh 2)a^ 

From earlier than I know, 

Immersed in rich foreshadowing of the world, 

I loved the woman. . . . 

Yet was there one through whom I loved her, 

one 
Not learned, save in gracious household ways, 
Not perfect, nay, but full of tender wants, 
No Angel, but a dearer being, all dipt 
In Angel instincts, breathing Paradise, 
Interpreter between the Gods and men, 
Who looked all native to her place, and yet 
On tiptoe seemed to touch upon a sphere 
Too gross to tread, and all male minds perforce 
Swayed to her from their orbits as they moved 
And girdled her with music. Happy he 
With such a mother ! faith in womankind 
Beats with his blood, and trust in all things high 
Comes easy to him, and though he trip and fall, 
He shall not blind his soul with clay. 

The Princess. 



169 



tTennvson 

1Ro\>ember 

JEt^btb Bag* 

One arm aloft — 
Gown'd in pure white, that fitted to the shape — 
Holding the bush, to fix it back, she stood, 
A single stream of all her soft-brown hair 
Pour'd on one side ; the shadow of the flowers 
Stole all the golden gloss, and, wavering 
Lovingly lower, trembled on her waist — 
Ah, happy shade — and still went wavering down, 
But, ere it touch' d a foot, that might have danced 
The greensward into greener circles, dipt, 
And mix'd with shadows of the common ground ! 
But the full day dwelt on her brows, and sunn'd 
Her violet eyes, and all her Hebe bloom, 
And doubled his own warmth against her lips, 
And on the bounteous wave of such a breast 
As never pencil drew. Half light, half shade, 
She stood, a sight to make an old man young. 
The Gardener *s Daughter. 



170 



•Wintb 2>a\> 

IRovember 

Iftintb Bag. 

Woman is not undeveloped man, 

But diverse ; could he make her as the man, 

Sweet love were slain, whose dearest bond is 

this 
Not like to thee, but like in difference : 
Yet in the long years liker must they grow ; 
The man be more of woman, she of man ; 
He gain in sweetness and in moral height, 

She mental breadth, nor fail in childward care ; 
More as the doubled-natured Poet each ; 
Till at the last she set herself to man, 
Like perfect music unto nobler words ; 
And so these twain, upon the skirts of Time, 
Sit side by side, full-summed in all their powers, 
Dispensing harvest, sowing the To-be, 
Self-reverent each and reverencing each, 
Distinct in individualities, 
But like each other even as those who love. 

The Pr hi cess. 



171 



'Cennvjson 



IRovember 

Zcnth Dag. 

Mystery of mysteries, 
Faintly smiling Adeline, 
Scarce of earth nor all divine, 
Nor unhappy, nor at rest, 
But beyond expression fair, 
With thy floating flaxen hair ; 
Thy rose-lips and full blue eyes 
Take the heart from out my breast. 
Wherefore those dim looks of thine, 
Shadowy, dreaming Adeline ? 



Whence that aery bloom of thine, 
Like a lily which the sun 
Looks thro' in his sad decline, 
And a rose-bush leans upon, 

Some honey-converse feeds thy mind, 
Some spirit of a crimson rose 
In love with thee forgets to close 
His curtains. . . . 

172 



Cleventb Bav 



IRovember 

CCUtb DaP {continued). 



What aileth thee ? whom waitest thou 
With thy soften' d, shadow 'd brow, 
And those dew-lit eyes of thine, 
Thou faint smiler, Adeline ? 

Adeline. 



Eleventb 2>as* 

My mother was as mild as any saint, 
And nearly canonized by all she knew, 
So gracious was her tact and tenderness. 

The Princess. 
173 



TEenngson 

IRovember 

Cwelftb Bag. 

The intuitive decision of a bright 

And thorough-edged intellect to part 

Error from crime ; a prudence to withhold ; 

The laws of marriage character' d in gold 

Upon the blanched tablets of her heart ; 

A love still burning upward, giving light 

To read those laws ; an accent very low 

In blandishment, but a most silver flow 

Of subtle-paced counsel in distress, 

Right to the heart and brain, tho' undescried, 

Winning its way with extreme gentleness 

Through all the outworks of suspicious pride ; 

A courage to endure and to obey ; 

A hate of gossip parlance, and of sway, 

The queen of marriage, a most perfect wife. 
. . . The world hath not another 

Of such a fmish'd chasten'd purity. 

Isabel. 



174 



jfouvtccntb £a\? 

IHopember 

Cbirteentb 2)a^ 

A maiden of our century, yet most meek ; 
A daughter of our meadows, yet not coarse ; 
Straight, but as lissome as a hazel wand ; 
Her eyes a bashful azure, and her hair 
In gloss and hue the chestnut, when the shell 
Divides three-fold to show the fruit within. 

A little fTutter'd, with her eyelids down, 
Fresh apple-blossom, blushing for a boon. 

Darling Katie, 



^Fourteenth Da£* 

She has neither savor nor salt, 

But a cold and clear-cut face. 

Perfectly beautiful ; let it be granted her ; 

Faultily faultless, icily regular, splendidly null, 

175 



ccnnvfcn 

Ittovember 

jfourteentb 5>a£ {continued). 

Dead perfection, no more : . . . 

Pale with the golden beam of an eyelash dead 

on the cheek, 
Passionless, pale, cold face, star-sweet on a 

gloom profound. 
Womanlike, taking revenge too deep for a 

transient wrong 
Done but in thought to your beauty. 

Maud. 



ffifteentb H>as* 

Kind the woman's eyes and innocent, 
And all her bearing gracious. 

The Holy Grail. 
176 



Sixteenth 5>as 

IRovember 

Sijteentb S)a^» 

I see thy beauty gradually unfold, 
Daily and hourly, more and more. 
I muse, as in a trance, the while 
Slowly, as from a cloud of gold, 
Comes out thy deep ambrosial smile. 
I muse, as in a trance, whene'er 
The languors of thy love-deep eyes 
Float on to me. . . . 

Sometimes, with most intensity 

Gazing, I seem to see 

Thought folded over thought, smiling asleep, 

Slowly awaken' d, grow so full and deep 

In thy large eyes. . . . 

In thee, all passion becomes passionless, 
Touch'd by thy spirit's mellowness. . . . 

Eleanore. 



177 



IRovember 

Seventeentb Ba£* 

Faithful, gentle, good, 
Wearing the rose of womanhood. 

The Two Voices. 



^Eighteenth Da£. 

She strove against her weakness, 
Though at times her spirit sank ; 

Shaped her heart with woman's meekness 
To all duties of her rank. 

The Lord of Burleigh. 



IRineteentb Da^ 

The woman is so hard 
Upon the woman ! 

The Princess. 

178 



cwcntvsfirst IDa^ 

IHovember 

{Twentieth Das. 

Petulant she spoke, and at herself she laughed ; 
A rose-bud set with little wilful thorns. 

The Princess. 



Yet I hold her, 
True woman : but you class them all in one, 
That have as many differences as we. 
The violet varies from the lily as far 
As oak from elm : one loves the soldier, one 
The silken priest of peace, one this, one that, 
And some unworthily ; their sinless faith, 
A maiden moon that sparkles on a sty, 
Glorifying clown and satyr ; whence they nee-; 
More breadth of culture : . . . 
They worth it ? truer to the law within ? 
Severer in the logic of a life ? 
Twice as magnetic to sweet influences 
Of Earth and Heaven ? 

The Princess. 
179 



Uennvjson 

IRovember 

Cwent£=seccm& 2>ag. 

Thou art not steep' d in golden languors, 
No tranced summer calm is thine, 

Ever varying Madeline. 
Thro' light and shadow thou dost range, 
Sudden glances, sweet and strange, 
Delicious spites, and darling angers, 
And airy forms of flitting change. 

Smiling, frowning, evermore, 
Thou art perfect in love-lore. 
Revealings deep and clear are thine 
Of wxalthy smiles ; but who may know 
Whether smile or frown be fleeter ? 
Whether smile or frown be sweeter, 
Who may know ? 

Frowns perfect-sweet along the brow 

Light-glooming over eyes divine, 

Like little clouds sun-fringed, are thine, 

Ever varying Madeline. 
Thy smile and frown are not aloof 
180 



'C\Yent\>tbirt> E>a$ 

IRovember 

Z\venty*$econb E>a£ [continued). 

From one another, 
Each to each is dearest brother ; 
Hues of the silken sheeny woof 
Momently shot into each other. 

All the mystery is thine ; 
Smiling, frowning, evermore, 
Thou art perfect in love-lore, 

Ever varying Madeline. 



Madeline. 



C\ventE=tbtr& Sag, 

Twin sister of the morning-star, — 

The loveliest life that ever drew the light 
From heaven to brood upon her, and enrich 
Earth with her shadow ! 
^ ........ . 

A woman I could live and die for. 

The Cup, 
181 



tennvson 

IRovember 

Cwentg^tourtb Bag. 

She did not weep, 
But o'er her meek eyes came a happy mist, 
Like that which kept the heart of Eden green 
Before the useful trouble of the rain. 

Enid. 



twenty *fittb Ba£. 

Enid easily believed, 
Like simple, noble natures, credulous 
Of what they long for ; good in friend or foe, 
There most in those who most have done them 

ill. 

Enid. 



TLxventy*Bi%tb 2>a£, 

She cast aside 
A splendor dear to women, new to her, 
And therefore dearer. 

Enid. 

182 



TTwentvjsefgbtb S)a$ 

IRovember 

Gwenty^seventb S>ag, 

Where could be found face dainter? then her 

shape 
From forehead down to foot perfect — again 
From foot to forehead exquisitely turned. 

Elaine. 



Ewent^efgbtb 2>ag* 

She, as her carol sadder grew, 
From brow and bosom slowly down 
Thro' rosy taper fingers drew 
Her streaming curls of deepest brown 
To left and right, and made appear 
Still-lighted in a secret shrine, 
Her melancholy eyes divine, 
The home of woe without a tear. 

Mariana. 
1S3 



tlennsson 



IRovember 

tTwent^^ntntb 2>a£. 

O sweet pale Margaret, 

O rare pale Margaret, 
What lit your eyes with tearful power, 
Like moonlight on a falling shower ? 
Who lent you, love, your mortal dower 
Of pensive thought and aspect pale, 
Your melancholy sweet and frail 
As perfume of the cuckoo-flower ? 
From the westward-winding flood, 
From the evening-lighted wood, 
From all things outward you have won 
A tearful grace, as tho' you stood 
Between the rainbow and the sun. 
The very smile before you speak, 
That dimples your transparent cheek, 
En circles all the heart, and feedeth 
The senses with a still delight 
Of dainty sorrow without sound, 
Like the tender amber round, 
Which the moon about her spreadeth, 
Moving thro' a fleecy night. 

184 



t;\vcntv=ntntb E>a\} 

IRovember 

Cwent^ssmntb Bag {continued). 

You love, remaining peacefully, 
To hear the murmur of the strife, 
But enter not the toil of life. 
Your spirit is the calmed sea, 
Laid by the tumult of the fight, 
You are the evening-star, alway 
Remaining betwixt dark and bright ; 
Lull'd echoes of laborious day 
Come to you, gleams of mellow light 
Float by you on the verge of night. 

A fairy shield your Genius made 
And gave you on your natal day. 
Your sorrow, only sorrow's shade, 
Keeps real sorrow far away. 

Margaret 



185 



Uenn$<30tt 

November 

Cbfrtietb 2)a^ 

All beauty compassed in a female form, 
The Princess ; liker to the inhabitant 
Of some clear planet close upon the sun, 
Than our man's earth ; such eyes were in her 

head, 
And so much grace and power, breathing down 
From over her arch'd brows, with every turn 
Lived thro' her to the tips of her long hands 
And to her feet. 

The Princess, 



December 



Jobn iRusftin 



TUbat tbe woman is to be witbin ber gates, as tbe 
centre of oroer, tbe balm of Distress, ano tbe mirror 
of beauts ; tbat sbe is also to be vvitbout ber gates, 
wbere oroer is more Difficult, Distress more imminent, 
loveliness more rare. 

Sesame ano Xilies. 



187 



Iftusfefn 

December 

Jfiret 2>a£, 

The perfect loveliness of a woman's counte- 
nance can only consist in that majestic peace, 
which is founded in the memory of happy and 
useful years, — full of sweet records ; and from 
the joining of this with that yet more majestic 
childishness, which is still full of change and 
promise ; — opening always — modest at once, 
and bright, with hope of better things to be 
won, and to be bestowed. There is no old age 
when there is still that promise — it is eternal 
youth. 

Sesame and Lilies. 



188 



Second S>as 

December 

Second H)aB. 

This is the true nature of home — it is the 
place of Peace ; the shelter, not only from all 
injury, but from all terror, doubt, and division. 
. . . And wherever a true wife comes, this 
home is always round her. The stars only may 
be over her head ; the glow-worm in the night- 
cold grass may be the only fire at her foot ; but 
home is yet wherever she is ; and for a noble 
woman it stretches far round her, better than 
ceiled with cedar, or painted with vermilion, 
shedding its quiet light far, for those who else 
were homeless. 

Sesame and Lilies. 



189 



IRuskiti 

December 

GbtrD H>ai>. 

If young ladies really do not want to be seen, 
they should take care not to let their eyes flash 
when they dislike what people say : and, more 
than that, it is all nonsense from beginning to 
end, about not wanting to be seen. I don't 
know any more tiresome flower in the borders 
than your especially ''modest" snowdrop; 
which one always has to stoop down and take 
all sorts of tiresome trouble with, and nearly 
break its poor little head off, before you can 
see it ; and then, half of it is not worth seeing. 
Girls should be like daisies : nice and white, 
with an edge of red, if you look close ; making 
the ground bright wherever they are ; knowing 
simply and quietly that they do it, and are 
meant to do, and that it would be very wrong 
if they didn't do it. 

Ethics of the Dust. 



190 



ffiftb £>as 

December 

JFourtb Ba£. 

You cannon think that the buckling on of the 
knight's armour by his lady's hand was a mere 
caprice of romantic fashion. It is the type 
of an eternal truth — that the soul's armour is 
never well set to the heart unless a woman's 
hand has braced it ; and it is only when she 
braces it loosely that the honour of manhood 
fails, 

Sesa m e and L Hies . 



jpiftb 2>afi. 

Be in your heart a Sister of Charity always, 
without either veiled or voluble declaration 
of it. 

Pre/a ce — Sesa me and L Hies . 
191 



tftusfein 

December 

Stjtb Bag, 

Lady means " bread-giver ' ' or " loaf-giver." 
. . . And a Lady has legal claim to her title, 
only so far as she communicates that help to 
the poor representatives of her Master, which 
women once, ministering to Him of their sub- 
stance, were permitted to extend to that Master 
Himself; and when she is known, as He Him- 
self once was, in breaking of bread. 

Sesame and Lilies. 

Seventb 2)a^ 

Your fancy is pleased with the thought of 
being noble ladies, with a train of vassals. Be 
it so ; you cannot be too noble, and your train 
cannot be too great ; but see to it that your 
train is of vassals whom you serve and feed, 
not merely of slaves who serve and feed you ; 
and that the multitude which obeys you is of 
those whom you have comforted, not oppressed, 
— whom you have redeemed, not led into cap- 
tivity. 

Sesame and Lilies. 

192 



flfntb Bavj 

December 

JBiQbth 2>a£. 

Generally we are under an impression that a 
man's duties are public, and a woman's private. 
But this is not altogether so, — a woman has a 
personal work and duty, relating to her own 
home, and a public work and duty, which is 
also the expansion of that. 

Sesame and Lilies. 



IRtntb Bas* 

The woman's work for her own home is, to 
secure its order, comfort, and loveliness. 

Sesa me and L Hies . 
193 



December 

Zcntb Bag. 

We hear of the mission and of the rights of 
woman, as if these could ever be separate 
from the mission and the rights of man ; — as 
if she and her lord were creatures of inde- 
pendent kind and of irreconcilable claim. 
This, at least, is wrong. And not less wrong- 
perhaps even more foolishly wrong — is the 
idea that woman is only the shadow and 
attendant image of her lord, owing him a 
thoughtless and servile obedience, and sup- 
ported altogether in her weakness by the pre- 
eminence of his fortitude. This, I say, is the 
most foolish of all errors respecting her who 
was made to be the helpmate of man. As if he 
could be helped effectively by a shadow, or 
worthily by a slave ! 

Sesame and Lilies. 



194 



"Cwclftb Fav 

December 

Eleventh £>a\\ 

Note, Shakespeare has no heroes ; — he has 
only heroines. . . . The catastrophe of every 
play is caused by the folly or fault of a man : 
the redemption, if there be any, is by the wis- 
dom and virtue of a woman. 

Sesame and Lilies. 



Cwelftb E>a£. 

Always dress yourselves beautifully — not 
finely, unless on occasion ; but then very finely 
and beautifully too. Also, you are to dress as 
many other people as you can ; and to teach 
them how to dress, if they don't know ; and to 
consider every ill-dressed woman or child whom 
you see anywhere, as a personal disgrace ; and 
to get at them, somehow, until everybody is as 
beautifully dressed as birds. 

Ethics of the Dust. 
195 



IRusfcm 

December 

Gbirteentb 2>as* 

Was any woman, do you suppose, ever the 
better for possessing diamonds ? but how many 
have been made base, frivolous, and miserable 
by desiring them ? 

Ethics of the Dust. 

ffourteentb 2>ag, 

Dwell on your own feelings and doings ; — 
and you will soon think yourselves Tenth 
Muses ; but forget your own feelings ; and try, 
instead, to understand a line or two of Chaucer 
or Dante ; and you will soon begin to feel your- 
selves very foolish girls, which is much like 

the fact. 

Ethics of the Dust. 

ffifteentb Bag* 

Remember, that nothing is ever done beauti- 
fully, which is done in rivalship ; nor nobly, 
which is done in pride. 

Ethics of the Dust 
196 



Seventeenth Stag 

Sirteentb H>a£. 

You must either be house-wives or house- 
moths ; remember that. Iu the deep seuse, 
you either weave men's fortunes, and em- 
broider them : or feed upon, and bring them 
to decay. 

Ethics of the Dust. 



Seventeenth 2>a|>. 

The woman's power is for rule, not for battle. 
— and her intellect is not for invention or crea- 
tion, but for sweet ordering, arrangement, and 
decision. She sees the qualities of things, 
their claims and their places. Her great func- 
tion is Praise : she enters into no contest, but 
infallibly judges the crown of the contest. By 
her office, and place, she is protected from all 
danger and temptation. 

Sesame and Lilies. 
197 



tftusfcin 

December 

JEigbteentb £>a£. 

We are foolish, aud without excuse foolish, 
in speaking of the "superiority " of one sex to 
the other, as if they could be compared in 
similar things. Each has what the other has 
not : each completes the other, and is com- 
pleted by the other : they are in nothing alike, 
and the happiness and perfection of both de- 
pends on each asking and receiving from the 
other what the other only can give. 

Sesame and Lilies. 



IRineteentb 5>as, 

The best women are indeed necessarily the 
most difficult to know ; they are recognized 
chiefly in the happiness of their husbands and 
the nobleness of their children ; they are only 
to be divined, not discerned by the stranger. 

Sesame and Lilies. 
198 



C:wcnt\>firet 2>av 

December 

Gwenttetb 2>a£, 

There is one dangerous science for women — 
one which let them indeed beware how they 
profanely touch — that of theology. 

Sesame and Lilies. 



A woman must — as far as one can use such 
terms of a human creature — be incapable of 
error. So far as she rules all must be right, or 
nothing is. She must be enduringly, incor- 
ruptibly good : instinctively, infallibly wise — 
wise, not for self-development, but for self- 
renunciation ; wise, not that she may set 
herself above her husband, but that she may 
never fail from his side ; wise not with the 
narrowness of insolent and loveless pride, but 
with the passionate gentleness of an infinitely 
variable, because infinitely applicable, modesty 
of service — the true changefulness of woman is 
variable as the light, manifold in fair and serene 
199 



Iftusfcin 

December 

ZwentyxfiVSt 2>a£ {continued). 

division, that it ma} T take the color of all that it 
falls upon, and exalt it. 

Sesame and Lilies. 

awent^seconO 2>ag, 

A woman's question — "What does cooking 
mean ? " It means the knowledge of all herbs, 
and fruits, and balms, and spices ; and of all 
that is healing and sweet in fields and groves 
and savory in meats ; it means carefulness, and 
inventiveness, and watchfulness, and willing- 
ness, and readiness of appliance ; it means the 
economy of your great-grandmothers, and the 
science of modern chemists ; it means much 
tasting and no wasting, it means English thor- 
oughness, and French art, and Arabian hospi- 
tality, and it means, in fine, that you are to be 
perfectly and always "ladies " — "loaf-givers " : 
and, as you are to see that everybody has some- 
thing pretty to put on — so you are to. see that 
everybody has something nice to eat. 

Ethics of the Dust. 
200 



Qwcntgsfourtb 2)av? 

December 

ftwentg^tbirt) Da£. 

You bring up your girls as if they were meaut 
for sideboard ornaments, and then complain 
of their frivolity. Let a girl's education be as 
serious as a boy's. — Give them the same ad- 
vantages that you give their brothers — appeal 
to the same grand instincts of virtue in them ; 
teach them also that courage and truth are the 

pillars of their being. 

Sesame and Lilies. 

Gwent^fourtb Ba^. 

Remember, you are to go the road which you 
see to be the straight one ; carrying whatever 
you find is given you to carry, as well and 
stoutly as you can : without making faces, or 
calling people to come and look at you — You 
are neither to load, nor unload yourself; nor 
to cut your cross to your own liking. . . . All 
you have really to do is to keep your back as 
straight as you can, and not think about what 
is upon it — above all, not to boast of what is 

upon it. 

Ethics of the Dust. 
201 



•ftusfcin 

December 

Gwent£=fittb 2>a£. 

What should be the place, and what the 
power of women ? . . . The first of our duties 
to her is to secure for her such physical train- 
ing and exercise as may confirm her health, 
and perfect her beauty, the highest refinement 
of that beauty being unattainable without 
splendor of activity and of delicate strength. 
To perfect her beauty, I say, and increase its 
power : it cannot be too powerful, nor shed its 
sacred light too far : only remember that all 
physical freedom is vain to produce beauty 
without a corresponding freedom of heart. 

Sesame and Lilies. 



Z\ventv*6\]ctb 2>a£* 

All such knowledge should be given woman 
as may enable her to understand, and even to 
aid, the work of men : and yet it should be 
given, not as knowledge, — not as if it were, or 
could be, for her an object to know ; but only 
202 



Uwentvsdnbtb S)av 

December 

ZWenty*8\£tb 5>a£ [continued). 

to feel, and to judge. It is of uo moment, as a 
matter of pride or perfectness in herself, whether 
she knows many languages or one ; but it is 
of the utmost, that she should be able to show 
kindness to a stranger, and to understand the 
sweetness of a stranger's tongue. 

Sesame and Lilies. 



C\vent£=seventb Bag. 

No man ever lived a right life who had not 
been chastened by woman's love, strengthened 
by her courage, and guided by her discretion. 

Sesame and Lilies. 



Cwentg^etgbtb Bag. 

Marriage — when it is marriage at all — is only 
the seal which marks the vowed transition of 
temporary into untiring service, and of fitful 
into eternal love. 

Sesame and Lilies. 
203 



Iftusfcin 

December 

Zwcnt^ninth Ba£. 

" jRijr/if-doers " ; they differ but from the 
Lady and Lord, in that their power is supreme 
over the mind as over the person — that they 
not only feed and clothe, but direct and teach. 
And whether consciously or not, you must be, 
in many a heart, enthroned ; there is no putting 
by that crown ; queens you must always be ; 
queens to your lovers ; queens to your husbands 
and your sons ; queens of higher mystery to the 
world beyond, which bows itself, and will for 
ever bow, before the myrtle crown, and the 
stainless sceptre of womanhood. 

Sesame and Lilies. 



ftbtrtietb 2>a£, 

It is not the object of education to turn a 

woman into a dictionary, but it is deeply 

necessary that she should be taught to enter 

with her whole personality into the history she 

204 



ftbirtietb Bav, 

December 

CblVtlCtb £>a£ (continued). 

reads ; to picture the passages of it vitally in 
her own bright imagination. . . . But, chiefly 
of all, she is to be taught to extend the limit 
of her sympathy with respect to that history 
which is being for her determined, as the mo- 
ments pass in which she draws her peaceful 
breath. . . . She is to be taught somewhat to 
understand the nothingness of the proportion 
which that little world in which she lives and 
loves, bears to the world in which God lives -*-*"' 
and loves : — and solemnly she is to be taught 
to strive that her thoughts of piety may not be 
feeble in proportion to the number they em- /" 

brace, nor her prayer more languid than it is 
for the momentary relief from pain of her hus- 
band or her child, when it is uttered for the 
multitudes of those who have none to love 
them. — and is, ,; for all who are desolate and 
oppressed." 

Sesame and Lilies, 



205 



Iftusfcfn 

December 

GbirtE^first Dag, 

The path of a good woman is indeed strewn 
with flowers ; but they rise behind her steps 
and not before them. " Her feet have touched 
the meadows, and left the daisies rosy." You 
think that only a lover's fancy : — false and 
vain ! How if it could be true ? ... It is little 
to say of a woman, that she only does not 
destroy where she passes. She should revive. 
. . . You have heard it said that flowers only 
flourish rightly in the garden of some one who 
loves them. I know you would like that to be 
true ; you would think it a pleasant magic if 
you could flush your flowers into brighter 
bloom by a kind look upon them : nay, more, 
if your look had the power, not only to cheer, 
but to guard them — if you could bid the black 
blight turn away, and the knotted caterpillar 
spare — if you could bid the dew fall upon them 
in the drought, and say to the south wind, in 
frost — "Come, thou south, and breathe upon 
my garden, that the spices of it may flow out." 

206 



ftbirtgsfirst IDa^ 

December 

ZbiVt^tivet 5)a^ (continued). 

This you would think would be a great thiug ? 
And do you think it not a greater thing, that 
all this (and how much more than this !) you 
can do, for fairer flowers than these— flowers 
that could bless you for having blessed them, 
and will love you for having loved them ; — 
flowers that have eyes like yours, and thoughts 
like yours, and lives like yours ; which, once 
saved, you save forever ? Is this only a little 
power? . . . Oh — you queens — you queens ! 

Sesame and Lilies. 



207 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



021 100 731 A 



LIBRARY OF CO 



021 



II I II 

100 ' 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



llllllllllllllllilllilllllillliHi 



021 100 731 A 



